


The Best I Ever Had

by FindingSchmomo



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Adulthood, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, i like making my favorites cry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-25
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-03-19 12:59:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 62,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3610929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FindingSchmomo/pseuds/FindingSchmomo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A story of separation and time lost. Oikawa and Iwaizumi lose contact, and life goes on. Now, a decade later and back in Japan, Oikawa wonders if he can pick the pieces back together, despite knowing Iwaizumi has moved on. A story of their past, present and future, pieced together by shaky hands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into ไทย available: [The Best I Ever had - สิ่งดีที่สุดที่เคยเกิดกับเขา](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5733985) by [freyaminnie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/freyaminnie/pseuds/freyaminnie)



Oikawa Tooru fiddles with the arm of his seat, flipping it up and down until the sidelong glances from his neighbor make him stop. He leaves it upright, for just a second, before pushing it down and leaving it be finally. His neighbor raises another brow but then ignores him in favor of his magazine. Oikawa purses his lips, drumming his feet a little in the tiny space available for him before the seat in front of him starts. 

He had not flown economy class in a long, long time. He marvels at what a difference money can make. He could be sitting in the plushy seats in the front, stretching out his long legs and chatting up one of the cute flight attendants for fun. Although, he hadn’t been feeling all that chatty lately. Especially after last night.

He rests his face against his hand and realizes just how long of a flight this would be, and coldness sinks into his very being. He flicks the window beside him open, looking down at New York, tiny specks of buildings in the darkening light. He takes in a breath. There was nothing for him there now. He had sold his condo and all the extra furniture. He had sent in his resignation at the corporation. He had nothing here. He let the breath out. 

Well, Ushijima was still down there. 

He feels his hand clutch at the arm of his chair and wills himself to relax. Wills that man to no longer have an effect on him. How he had plagued him for years, both on and off the court. How he reminded him of his worst. He grits his teeth and takes another deep breath, plugging his complementary headphones into the socket of his arm rest, desperate for distraction. 

What he needs is an in flight movie to take his mind off everything. He did not want to think about what he was leaving, nor, necessarily what he was heading for. He would rather put all that off for later. 

He picks some animated kid’s movie, hoping the colors would keep him entertained and distracted. He leans back taking another breath, trying to even it out. He glances at his Iphone briefly, hesitating before making the poor decision to swipe at the screen. 

It reveals his e-mail draft, the last thing he had opened, waiting to be sent. He reads it over again, for the third time,

“Iwa-chan, 

Long time no see! c: I’ll be back in Japan in a few days! Let’s have lunch. 

\- Oikawa”

He erases the headline, re-writes “Iwaizumi,” grits his teeth, adds a ‘chan’, frowns deeper and replaces it once again with “Iwa-chan.” 

How many times has he re-written this e-mail? He remembers the first draft, typed out on his home computer in flurry of tears and regret, fresh from the night before. He wrote out two pages worth of apologies, of explanations, of excuses. Andover the course of twenty four hours he had edited it all down to a meaningless two sentences, just to announce to the void that _he was back_. 

He locks his phone and sticks it in to the airplane pocket, out of reach, out of mind. 

He would send the e-mail once he landed in the LA Airport during his layover, since he didn’t have wifi at the moment. That was the only reason. The thought makes his palms sweat and slip on the arm of his chair nervously. 

It doesn’t matter. There was nothing he could do about it right now. He just needed to focus on the movie in front of him. There was no point worrying now. No point in anything now. He had already lost.  

* * *

 

At the LA Airport, Oikawa stares at his phone while in line for a coffee. He re-writes the e-mail two more times. It now reads, 

“Iwaizumi-chan, 

I’ve been busy! And I hear you’ve been too ;). Anyways, Im coming back to Japan and we should meet up! 

-Oikawa”

He licks his lips, looking up when his name is called and grabbing his drink. He takes a seat in the cafe, sipping at his coffee and wondering why he was torturing himself so hard over this. 

He replaces “Iwaizumi-chan” with “Iwa-chan” again and locks his phone. 

It doesn’t stay like that for long, and he soon has it out again, this time fiddling with his signature. He changes it to “Oikawa Tooru” but that seems to formal. “Tooru” is much too casual, too personal. He almost writes out “To-chan” as a joke. Instead, he goes back to “Oikawa”. He lets out a shaky breath, puts away his phone and drinks his coffee. 

By the time he is seated on his second plane the email has been rewritten another two times. 

“I’m back.” is all it says. No greeting. No signature. Just two meaningless words in this meaningless world. Two words too little to late. Two words ten years too late.  

Oikawa glares at the phone, huffing into the air. The flight attendant passes by, flicking her gaze at him. He does not miss the way her eyes linger, completely used to the attention, but in no mood to toy with her. She smiles at him regardless, “Please turn off all your devices, sir.” She adds the title with a little twinkle in her eye. Normally, Oikawa would have smiled back and started to flirt to pass the time. But not today. 

Oikawa clicks his phone off and tries to get some sleep. It’s restless, but that is to be expected from a plane. Still, he dreams of his condo, of Ushijima, of his bed, of all his past exploits, the faces of men and women flashing in his mind, most of them nameless. And Ushijima again, haunting, and he wills it away but all it brings in his absence is Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi with his stern look, still 18 and fresh after practice. Iwaizumi laughing at his expense. Iwaizumi smiling a rare smile. Iwaizumi as a small child, bug net in his hand, looking at him curiously. Iwaizumi as a pre teen, pimply faced and upset. Iwaizumi as he leaves him, trying his best to seem strong when he’s about to cry. 

Iwaizumi Hajime. 

The best he ever had.

Oikawa wakes up in a sweat to the plane descending, looking out to see Tokyo’s buildings sprawling around him. He’s groggy, he’s sweaty and all he wants is a long bath. He realizes that he’s back home and he can finally have an actual bath. It was one of the things he had missed the most during his decade stay in the US. Their showers were so quick and meaningless. Everything empty and meaningless. Two words, empty and meaningless.

He stumbles into the aisle with the other tired passengers, trudging out into the airport terminal. It’s about dinner time in Japan and Oikawa is starving, but needs to settle things first. He checks his phone to see if he has any messages. He has some from his parents but other than that, nothing noteworthy.

He knows he should respond to them immediately, thats what a good son would do, but Oikawa is too tired to care, so he grips his phone and heads over to baggage claim. It’s there that he sees people being reunited with their families, their friends. Their lovers. He sees one girl race up to her presumed boyfriend, taking his hands tightly as they talk excitedly to each other. 

Oikawa loses his appetite. 

He grabs his suitcase, flicks his phone on to see the e-mail glaring at him, blinding. He stares at it, transfixed. Reads it over one more time. “I’m back.” He clicks edit, pulling up his keyboard and replacing the last word. 

“I’m sorry.”

Oikawa swallows.

He deletes the email entirely and calls for a cab, keeping his eyes on the ground. 

Two words would never be enough. Nothing would ever be enough. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My new multi-fic! I promise later chapters will be longer. I'm hoping to have chapter two up in two days or so. I'm having a lot of fun writing this!
> 
> Also warning: This fic will have OCs, i'm trying to keep them as minor as possible but they do pop up at times.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to the Beginning of the End

Iwaizumi is there when he gets the e-mail. They’re sitting in his bedroom, Oikawa flipping through Iwaizumi’s comic books, even though he has read them all before, and Iwaizumi reading through a novel for class. Oikawa’s phone buzzes, and initially he thinks its a snapchat from one of his teammates, or a text from his mom to come back for dinner, but instead its an e-mail. 

He sits up, swiping his phone open to see an e-mail from his top choice, an American University abroad, with an excellent volleyball team. He clicks on it, and, after a few sentences, states that they were accepting him into their program. He gasps, and Iwaizumi looks over at him, closing his book. 

“What?” He asks, starting to come over. 

Oikawa stares at him, dropping his phone to hold his face as if to confirm that this is real. This isn’t a dream. He feels his fingers on his face, warm and tingly, “I got in.” He whispers in disbelief, more for himself than Iwaizumi. 

“What?” Iwaizumi repeats, head tilted, eyebrows furrowed.

“I...” And now Oikawa is working a mile a minute, eyes watering as he grapples for his phone, “I got in!” he cries out, and now its a mantra as he shoves the phone into Iwaizumi’s hands. “I got in! I got in! _I got in!”_ He’s crying now, grinning helplessly and feeling light as a feather. He’s almost giggly, shaking where he is sitting wondering how. He couldn’t believe it. 

He got in.

He got in to an abroad program to get him on the way to play professionally. 

This was everything he had ever wanted. 

Iwaizumi stares at the phone re-reading the message twice before looking up in a daze, until he too is all smiles. A giant wide smile, and eyes lit up with pride. He tackles Oikawa to the ground, both of them a mess of gangly limbs and giggles. Iwaizumi grabs Oikawa’s head, ruffling his hair roughly, and pulling him close. 

“I told _you_. I told you, you were shoe in! You talented asshole.” Iwaizumi laughs, pressing his smiling face into Oikawa’s hair, nuzzling him. Oikawa continues his own laughter, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend and pulling him down so his face is level with his own. Iwaizumi leans forward, pressing kisses into Oikawa’s neck, peppering him up and keeping him close. 

Oikawa giggles harder, taking Iwaizumi’s face with his hands to kiss him on the lips. They keep breaking apart to smile and grin and Iwaizumi never stops holding him the entire time. 

Iwaizumi is pressing his forehead against Oikawa’s when the latter speaks up again, catching his breath from all the excitement, “I need to tell my parents.” They’re both breathless, a little sweaty, and red in the face. Iwaizumi nods after a momen, moving away for the first time. Oikawa feels cold without his ace’s arms around him, keeping him close and pressed against him, so he grabs his hand, “You’ll come with me right?”

Iwaizumi looks slightly surprised but quickly nods, picking himself up. He offers a hand to the brunette, who’s still sprawled out on his bedroom floor, eyes glazed in a dream. Oikawa takes the offer after a second, hauling himself up. The pair soon dash out of the house, crossing the street in a flash before Oikawa lets them into his own home. They almost forget to slip off their shoes in their shared excitement. He finds his mother in the kitchen, letting go of Iwaizumi’s hand before being spotted to shove his phone at her. 

She looks at him like he’s crazy, and she probably has good reason to. His hair is a mess, his eyes are shining, he’s red and he wont stop smiling and yet the stain of tears is still present on his cheeks. 

“Mom, I got in!” He shouts, jumping a little, and his mother blinks, “I get to go to America!” He continues, imploringly. As if to say _please be excited for me_. It takes her a moment to process but soon her eyes shine with recognition, glancing at Iwaizumi in disbelief. He nods his head, grinning, as if to say _this isn’t one of Oikawa’s dumb tricks, it’s real_. And she wraps her son in a tight hug, kissing both his cheeks fiercely.

“Tooru, I’m so proud! This is amazing!” She praises when she pulls aways. 

And Oikawa is shining even brighter, tears once more brimming his eyes. “Let me tell Dad, ok?” He pleads and she nods, already planning a celebratory dinner for her son. 

He hops away to another room, Iwaizumi in toe, and can’t believe how luck he really is. 

* * *

Oikawa is there to help Iwaizumi move into his new dorm room in Tokyo because American schools start later. 

“I don’t think you have enough pictures of me.” Oikawa comments, looking on top of Iwaizumi’s dresser. It was lined with a series of framed photographs, them as children, the aoba johsai team with them front and center, and a couple others of them now. He picks one up, of him pulling Iwaizumi into the frame with a glittering smile and Iwaizumi mid laugh, eyes squeezed shut. It’s a little blurry, but it only adds to the dynamic shot, a captured moment. He loves this picture. 

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, “Once you leave my room they’re all going into the trash where they belong.” He snaps and Oikawa whines, pouting his lips at him playfully. 

The older teen just turns away, focused on making his bed. Oikawa is not one for being ignored, and quickly goes to sit down on the object competing with him. Iwaizumi glowers at him. Pulling at the sheets now trapped under his boyfriend’s body. 

“Get off.” He orders gruffly, pulling harder to no avail. 

Oikawa lies down, spreading his arms and legs as if making a snow angel, creating wrinkles and smirking deviously, “This bed would be so much more comfy if you had gone with what i had picked out for you.” He sighs out into the air mournfully. 

Iwaizumi gives him a stare, letting go of the sheets, “Why the fuck would I ever want a duvet of cartoon aliens.”

Oikawa looks wounded, stretching his arms into the air indignantly, “Because _aliens_ , Iwa-chan!”

Iwaizumi smacks him with a pillow and Oikawa lets out a piercing shriek, groping blindly for Iwaizumi. He swears it’s almost as if the spiky haired teen moves to accommodate him when he finally grasps at his arm. With his prisoner secured, he pulls him onto the bed on top of him.

When Iwaizumi is seated, practically perched atop Oikawa’s hips, he lifts the pillow to reveal his boyfriend’s mussed up face, eyes a little teary and cheeks red. Iwaizumi rolls his eyes at the sight, but can’t help the smile. He’s careful not to put his whole weight down on him, straddling the others body carefully. 

Oikawa pouts up at him, “Iwa-chan is always so cruel to me.” He laments, turning his head to the side. His eyes still look up at Iwaizumi, large and wet. His lips pursed and a point, sniffling a little to add to the spice of drama. But Iwaizumi can tell he’s also showing as much of his neck as possible, stretching it out in an appetizing manner and _its working_ but Iwaizumi likes to tease almost as much as Oikawa does so he ignores the ploy. 

“Anyone else would have murdered you by now.” He responds dryly, smiling broadly. 

Oikawa catches the glint in his eye and can’t help the giggle erupting from him. He abandons his coy attempts to seduce is boyfriend in favor of just tugging him down to peck his lips. Iwaizumi catches himself by placing his forearms on either side of Oikawa’s head, careful not to fall on him. Their conversation is mostly forgotten then, as they keep up there kissing, and Iwaizumi tangles his fingers in Oikawa’s brown fluffy hair. 

“Should we christen this bland bed of yours?” Oikawa asks in an almost sing song voice, head tilting up at his boyfriend. 

“Would you fuck on a cartoon alien bed for kids?” Iwaizumi asks, brow raised. 

Oikawa grimaces at the thought, “Touché.”

Iwaizumi laughs, a short brisk one, and climbs off. Oikawa is too slow at grabbing at him to keep him his prisoner. He looks over with a huff, “What was that?”

“I still need to unpack, keep it in your pants.” Is the noncommittal reply. Iwaizumi is already going through another one of his boxes, completely unaffected. 

Oikawa whines, kicking his feet into the bed like a tiny child who didn’t get what he wanted. He is ignored, much to his disappointment, as Iwaizumi rifles through his boxes. So, the ex-captain lounges on the bed, watching his ex-ace, no, always his ace, bend down and move about. It’s a bit lecherous, but Oikawa _is_ in the mood. He had made that pretty clear. 

He whistles at one point, when Iwaizumi’s shirt rides up and his pants ride down in one magical moment, only to get him a reddened glare. 

“Aren’t you going to help?” Iwaizumi glowers, pulling his pants up as he stands. He’s almost done though and there isn’t really much for Oikawa to do. But its the principle that matters. 

“I am helping!” Oikawa insists, rolling back onto his back, posing seductively, “The image of me in bed should fuel you to finish as fast as possible.” 

“You’re right.” Iwaizumi says, and Oikawa looks over at him quizzically, not expecting _that response_. “I’m done.”

“You are?” Oikawa sits up, excited, held up by his bent arms. The position makes his chest stick out suggestively. It’s only slightly on purpose. Still he’s a bit wary. It’s never this easy. 

“No, I have one last job I need to finish.” The elder corrects, coming over. He takes the pillow again, smooshing it over Oikawa’s face, watching as he flails and struggles, gurgling into the pillow. He keeps holding it down firmly.

After a few seconds of pure joy, Iwaizumi releases him, lifting the pillow to view an irate, ruffled setter, breathing heavily. His lips are wet and his cheeks bright red, eyes teary. His chest is heaving, eyes blinking up at him rapidly. Iwaizumi can’t help but laugh and he’s tempted to stroke his boyfriend’s face in apology. But he decides to wait on that last bit. 

“I could have died.” Oikawa insists, frowning deeply. His breathing is evening again, and he’s successfully blinked back the tears. 

“Satan can’t die.” Iwaizumi shrugs, turning his head to the side to try to hide his smile. 

Oikawa slaps him halfheartedly, rolling away onto his side to sulk, as he usually does. But Iwaizumi decides the last of his stuff can wait to be unpacked, climbs on to the bed and crawls over to his boyfriend, rolling him back over. 

“Go away.” Oikawa mutters, forcing on a deep frown. He has his head turned away, looking as offended as possible. “You shouldn’t be near me because apparently I’m Satan.”

“And I’m here to join you in Hell.”

Oikawa tries to keep a straight face, he tries as best he can, but it evaporates into a boisterous laugh as he clutches at his sides, “That was the dumbest cheesiest line I’ve heard you say yet, Iwa chan!” He cries, wiping a fresh tear from his eye. “And you are full of cheesy one liners!”

Iwaizumi slaps him on the back, a bit red and embarrassed, before pulling him in for another kiss to shut him up. Oikawa easily melts into it, digging a hand into his ace’s short coarse hair, slick with the gel he used in the morning. The feeling makes him smile into the kiss, pulling him closer easily. It felt familiar. It felt like home.

It’s always so simple, how easily they mesh and meld. Exchanging few words but knowing exactly what the other wants, just by shared looks. Except for their first time-which granted, was a terrible time for both of them, and that was a story for another time anyway. Right now was all that mattered. Right now in Iwaizumi’s dorm room, without a care in the world. 

It is after, when they’re tangled in bland but homey sheets, Oikawa nuzzling into Iwaizumis neck, half asleep, but oh so warm, and Iwaizumi running fingers along Oikawa’s long legs, that Iwaizumi turns to him. He cups his face, delicately, as if he’ll fall apart if he’s not to careful. Oikawa frowns, a slight downturn of his lips, not an overdramatic show, but a sincere worry plaguing his expression. His eyes looking at him intently. _What’s wrong?_

Iwaizumi nibbles his bottom lip, glancing to the side, and lettings his thumb caress the underneath of Oikawa’s ear, “America...is far.” He says it a bit harshly, and looks as though he regrets it immensely when the words tumble from his mouth. But they are out there for the world to see. He digs his hand into Oikawa’s hair, afraid he’ll leave right then and there. 

Oikawa softens, smiling sadly and turns to lie on his side, staring up at the ceiling and taking Iwaizumi’s hand out of his hair to hold it. “It won’t be so bad.” He assures, and Iwaizumi can tell he says it not only for him but for himself. 

He turns again, suddenly, and their faces are touching, noses bumping and Oikawa looks at him intensely. Iwaizumi is speechless. Oikawa isn’t, “Let’s take a nap. I’m tired. You were too rough with me.” He ends with a playful whine and Iwaizumi snorts, but obeys wordlessly, grabbing the covers and pulling it over the both of them, inching a bit closer. 

Oikawa stays up, despite his efforts. But it’s fine, because Iwaizumi is a cuddler in his sleep, no matter how much he tries to deny it. Wrapped tightly in his strong arms, Iwaizumi’s face nuzzled into his neck, Oikawa feels at home. He wonders about America, how foreign and exciting and new. He would be playing with a complete new team, meet new rivals, make new friendships.

Iwaizumi mumbles in his sleep, his lips tickling Oikawa’s neck and suddenly the setter feels like crying.

But he won’t. 

At least not here. Not now.

* * *

It’s weird to say goodbye when he knows he still has over an hour left before his plane leaves. It’s weird and unreal and he tries to laugh it all off. It’s weird and he focuses on the weirdness so he doesn’t cry. 

His mom hugs him again, the fifth time, pinching his cheeks and telling him how proud she is of him. He smiles and laughs, hugging back, and pretending not to notice the tears falling out of her eyes. Her baby is leaving. It’s easy to understand her crying.

He doesn’t know why Kindaichi is crying, nor does he really acknowledge it. His team is here to send him off. He is thankful for it. He knows they will do fine, they will keep Seijoh a powerhouse. He has left them in good hands, he knows, glancing at Shigeru who remains stern. Oikawa smiles at them, triumphantly. He’ll miss them dearly.

Iwaizumi is not standing with their team. At least, not for the moment. He remains a bit to the side, away from everyone, as if cast off, when in reality he is the only thing on Oikawa’s mind. He seems to be patiently waiting for his moment, for Oikawa’s mother to finish her cooing and crying so he can step in. It’s very respectful. It’s very Iwaizumi. 

Finally, his father pulls Oikawa’s mother away, and Iwaizumi makes his move, coming closer to say his own goodbye. 

“Don’t cause too much trouble.” He begins and Oikawa already feels a whine building in the back of his throat, “Don’t overtrain. If you’re starting to overtrain imagine the pain of my fist in your face.” He continues to lecture, giving a warning look.

“Iwa-chan...” Oikawa lets loose the whine, pouting at his his boyfriend, best friend, his only _real_ friend. Because in the sea of Oikawa’s popularity there was only ever one rock to hold on to.

Iwaizumi softens, knocking Oikawa’s shoulder with his fist playfully, “Be safe ok? And text me when you get there.”

“Iwa-chan are you my mom?” Oikawa tilts his head jokingly. 

“You want a black eye to explain to the flight attendant?” Comes the lighthearted threat.

Oikawa laughs, “It might give me pity points to upgrade me to first class.” 

Iwaizumi snorts and then quite suddenly pulls him into a rough hug. His fingers dig painfully into Oikawa’s back, but the setter relishes the feeling. He wonder’s if they’ll leave indents, proof that Iwaizumi was there. When Iwaizumi finishes, he pulls away and nods. It gives the whole deal a sense of finality. And Oikawa knows it’s because if they drag this on any longer Iwaizumi will cry and no one wants to see that. He can already see the itchiness behind the spiky haired teen’s eyes.  

No one should be crying, except for Oikawa’s mother. And Kindaichi, apparently, who, after another quick glance is confirmed to still be crying. 

“Thank you everyone for sending me off!” Oikawa speaks up, smiling his charming smile and waving broadly. He adds a bow for a good measure. After, he hefts up his bag and goes off toward security, glancing back one last time at his friends and family. The team is already leaving. His mother is covering her face and turned toward his father. Iwaizumi watches him, giving him an encouraging smile. 

Once he is through security, and sitting at his gate, the sense of finality hits him. This is it. He’s leaving everything he’s ever known for a whole other world. He suddenly feels so small, small like he does when losing to Shiratorizawa, small like he was when he first met Iwaizumi, small like he thought he would never be again. 

He pulls out his phone. His fingers tremble. His stomach sinks. Regret pools in. He types out:

_I don’t want to go_

It takes a moment but he can see Iwaizumi already typing up his reply in the little dots on his screen.

_You’re going to shine_

Oikawa doesn’t know how Iwaizumi does it, how he makes him smile with four words texted out. But he feels a lot lighter, even if he’s tearing up. But it’s alright. It’s all going to be fine. He’s stronger than this and he knows it, and Iwaizumi knows it, and that sense of solidarity gives him the strength. 

He boards the plane with a new sense of confidence, a sureness in his step as he glides down the aisle. And there is only one second of apprehension, of off center balance when he wonders if he saw a familiar face on the plane. A ghost. But he puts it out of his mind and takes his seat and starts to get excited about the adventures to come. 

Because no matter what, he’ll always have a home to return to. 

He reads the text again. 

_You’re going to shine_

He makes a promise to do just that. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it! Theres more to come c:
> 
> come bother me on tumblr if you'd like at findingschmomo


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back then, all he remembered was smiling.

Oikawa steps off the plane and tries to swallow his nerves down. He’s jittery despite his anxiety and the exhaustion from the long flight he endured. Maybe it’s the fact he couldn’t sleep much, cramped as it was. Sometimes his long legs are more of a curse than a blessing. He thinks of the night before, of Iwaizumi running his fingertips over them idly, making him shiver, the pads of his fingers rough and calloused from spiking, yet so delicate on his skin. 

Oh, that was two nights ago now, wasn’t it?

Oikawa, squints at the bright lights of the airport as he enters the gate. It’s afternoon in New York City, and the airport is crowded and bustling. It takes a moment for him to recognize the romaji letters swirling around him, rather than the familiar kanji of home. He feels kind of dumb for it. 

Still, he follows the other passengers towards baggage claim, feeling a bit dizzy. People bump and push past him. A screaming child rushes past and he feels a bit disjointed, wondering why no one else seems all that bothered. The crowd empties out and he finds the baggage ring and starts to fidget. He pulls out his phone, figures it must be late in Japan but decides to text Iwaizumi anyway.

_I landed! America is so weird, Iwa-chan._

He glances up and sees that his baggage still hasn’t made it’s way down the conveyor belt and decides to keep texting into the void.

_It must be late in Miyagi right? Hope I don’t wake you up! You better be dreaming of me c;_

He smiles at his phone and slips it back into his pocket, not expecting a reply anytime soon. Iwaizumi is a notoriously heavy sleeper, and snores like a monster despite his denials. The memory makes him smile more, and his heart clenches and he wonders if he’ll be able to visit home during winter break. 

He spots his bag and strides over, picking it up and stretching out the handle to wheel it around with him. He realizes he should notify his coach of his arrival, to figure out where he is supposed to go. He pulls up the informative e-mail, scanning it, and heading over to the correct exit. 

He looks around before spotting a sign with his new university’s name, and he picks his way over. 

“Hey! Are you one of ours?” The man standing beside the student holding up the sign asks jovially with much more energy than Oikawa’s tired brain can currently handle. 

Oikawa nods, bowing. It earns him a hearty laugh and a smack to his back he decides to interpret as friendly. 

“Which one are you?” The man asks, grinning. 

“Oikawa Tooru.” He responds, and his voice sounds a little scratchy from lack of use. 

“Sorry, run that by me again?”

“My name is Tooru Oikawa.” He tries, self conscious of his accent, but remembering in America the order for names is flipped. It’s weird. It’s foreign. But so is everything else. Still, he’d thought at least his name would remain the same. 

“Toroo? Alright. It’ll take me a while but I’ll get it eventually! I’m terrible with names.” The man continues eyes glinting. He’s short and a bit heavy set, but his smile is large and welcoming. 

Oikawa doesn’t really know how to respond and it’s jarring to be called by his first name so casually. Not even Iwaizumi uses it. Well, he uses it very rarely. 

“Speaking of names, look at me gettin’ all sidetracked? I’m Dan Smith, your coach! Lucky you, having a flight time I could come get ya personally. We’re waiting cause I’ve got two more internationals from Britain who should be arriving soon and then we can turn you over to the admins to settle ya into your rooms. I’ll give y’all the schedule for the week once we get into the car. Oh and this is Ricky,” The man finishes, pointing at the tall lanky blond blue eyed boy holding his sign. 

He’s cute, and a bit timid, seemingly grateful for the giant sign shielding most of his body. He’s a bit shorter than Oikawa, which he finds quite comforting. He’d always heard Americans were giant. Thankfully, he was pretty tall. 

It’s hard for Oikawa to grasp the longwinded stream of words the coach spills out but he nods politely, feeling a bit like he did in his first year of elementary, thrust into a new crowd, a new world, a new everything. It was a very rocky start but he managed pretty well eventually and he’s sure he’ll manage fine now once he’s settled. Despite Iwaizumi not being around this time. He’s older now. He can take care of himself.

He checks his phone automatically, but there is nothing. Which he already knew. It’s probably the middle of the night back home. He decides to send his father a message to let him know he had made it safely. He probably should have done that earlier come to think of it. 

About ten minutes later two more boys join their ranks. They’re also shorter than him, and they seem to have become friends while on the plane. They’re both in high spirits, chattering with their coach. One of them, the darker haired boy comments, “Funny the Japanese kids the tallest among us!” He laughs and there’s smiles all around. 

And Oikawa laughs too, a bit self conscious but he’s used to putting on a mask, flashing a charming smile, “I’m tall in Japan too.” He confirms, and he tries to ignore how weird it sounds to speak English, how troublesome the word _tall_ is to pronounce, how weird it is to call his home _Japan_. But he ignores it, he pushes it down, hoping to be burbling with the confidence he desperately needs. The confidence he normally has. 

His teammates buy it, and none seem to comment on his accent, and he feels a bit more relaxed, like things are going to be ok, for the first time since stepping onto his plane. 

He slides open his phone and texts Iwaizumi once more.

_Americans are so chatty! :P_

He slips his phone back in, and follows his team as they’re marshaled into a small van. The coach is in the passenger seat, the sign holder--Ricky was it?-- driving. Oikawa’s against one of the windows, with the two Brits smushed beside him. 

They’re still all talking, sharing excitedly between the two of them and the coach their plans for school, their academic interests, their favorite positions to play, past wins and losses. It’s all very exciting but at times hard to follow and Oikawa feels a bit drained by then. 

“Is that your mobile vibrating or mine?” The Brit next to him interrupts himself, groping for his own cell. Oikawa blinks, digging into his pocket and seeing that its his.

_You’ll fit right in then. Now shut up so I can sleep._

Oikawa can’t help the grin that splays across his face, and it feels surreal to see Iwaizumi’s words from miles and miles away lighting up his screen and he holds on to this, savoring those simple words Because they are familiar, they are real, they are home.

He doesn’t know how to respond but it seems Iwaizumi still has more to say as his phone buzzes again.

_But I do want to hear everything. But like, in a few hours. It’s the middle of the night over here._

Oikawa’s smile softens, and he texts back

_Sorry, Iwa-chan! I forgot how desperately you need your beauty sleep. Text me when you’re awake! I’m skyping my parents later tonight so maybe I can skype you after??? c:_

He waits a moment, wondering if Iwaizumi has gone back to sleep or not, but he gets a response soon enough.

_K I can do that probably. have fun_

And after another second:

_be careful_

And after an even shorter second:

_love you_

And Oikawa’s heart is beating like crazy because this is the greatest treat he’s gotten in a long while. Iwaizumi is usually more flustered and guarded, unless in a certain mood, or tired. So it’s mostly the latter, but Oikawa relishes in it, excitedly typing back.

_Iwa chaaaaaaaan! I love you too! Go have sweet dreams of me ok! Night!_

And he feels giddy as he shoves his phone back into his pocket, leaning forward to join the conversation, confidence and energy surging through him. He easily integrates, sharing his passion for volleyball, his interest in astronomy and his excitement for the American experience. 

The coach seems to jump on the latter point, listing all the noble feats of his dear country and Oikawa half listens, but he’s more interested in the stories of his teammates and how they relate to his.

“I had a...a,” he pauses, trying to think of the correct word in english, “younger classmate?” He tries.

“Underclassman?” The driver offers helpfully, eyes looking at him through the review mirror. 

“Hai! Yes,” Oikawa grins, “My underclassman, he was annoyingly talented. Naturally so, it pisses me off, I crushed him the first time I faced off with him when we went to different High Schools. But he settled the score in the next tournament.” 

“Ug, younger people being better than you is always the worst.” One of the Brits, laments, and Oikawa smiles, “It’s quite unfair.”

He likes that he’s feeling connected, he likes that these men aren’t as foreign as he had feared. He glances and sees the driver is still looking at him through the rearview, and he decides to ignore it, turning back to his seat mates to continue the conversation. 

They’re all laughing when they get off the van at the round about near the administrative building of the university. The coach hands them off a schedule of practices for the week, and wishes them the best before taking the van to go park it. 

Ricky guides them quietly into the building, handing them off to one of the Orientation leaders, and hanging back. 

She smiles at them, “Welcome! Here are your orientation packets!” Oikawa is struck by how loud she is, but takes it in stride, smiling a charming smile, letting his fingers graze against hers when he takes his folder. She glances at him curiously, before smiling sweetly. 

The packet is full of information and his orientation schedule. He’ll have to go through it in detail later. 

“Alright,” Ricky speaks up, voice soft and yet commanding, and they all turned to him, “I’m going to take you to the best dining hall on campus, show you the gym and then help you get back to your dorms to unpack and rest.”

They nod, eagerly and follow and Oikawa doesn’t think much of Japan or home at all. 

* * *

It’s when Oikawa turns the key into his dorm that he realizes that Ricky lives in the same building. They had dropped each Brit off in his own dorm, and then Ricky had taken him to his own. But instead of leaving, he follows him in with a soft smile. 

“What room are you in?” He asks, and Oikawa tells him, “104”.

Ricky seems to laugh, “I’m on 119. Other end of the same hall, here I’ll show you where your room is.” Oikawa follows, and once he unlocks his room he sees that Ricky is still lingering. He doesn’t know why it prickles his skin but it does. The man is just being nice, after all. 

“Bathroom’s near the lounge over there. This floor has gender neutral bathrooms but I think the floor above us has ‘em separated? I’m not sure. Anyway, my room is all the way down past the lounge if you need anything. I’ll probably be in the dorm all night. Leah might come see you soon. She’s the RA for this floor and she means well.”

Oikawa nods, because it’s a lot to process and the minute he saw the unmade bed in the room he’d had the insane urge to sleep for a thousand years. Ricky remains another moment but then seems to get the picture, waving and departing down the hall. 

The brunet crawls into his room. It’s a decent size, with two of everything. His roommate hasn’t arrived yet, which is to be expected. Oikawa picks the side with the window view, and starts setting up his bed and unpacking.

He’s only made his bed and pulled out his laptop when he decides he’ll do the rest tomorrow. He lies down on his bed, sighing as he sinks in. He can tell the mattress is of poor quality but he can’t bring himself to care at the moment. He’s exhausted. He wonders if he could just doze off, but he promised his parents and he promised Iwaizumi too. 

He still has another half hour until his skype date, so he pulls his shade open to look out in the darkening night sky. 

He can see the city scape, and there’s a limited number of stars in the sky. It’s disappointing. Back home he could see everything. And here only the brightest stars can shine. 

He pulls the shade back down and curls up on his bed, the sinking feeling of homesickness beginning to drown him once more. He tries to think of all the positiveness, of all the friends he has made, of playing volleyball with his team soon, of all the new experiences to come. 

He fiddles with his alien duvet, thinking about Iwaizumi’s bland covers. He kind of wants to cry, and in the dark with no roommate it’s the best time to do so. But his parents would see him in 15 minutes, so he doesn’t. He keeps it all in. 

His skype call with his parents goes well. Most of it is spent teaching them how to us the device but it’s all well. All they say is how proud they are and how excited they are for him. It gets a bit tedious, and he cuts the call a bit short by mentioning how tired he is. 

He texts Iwaizumi, 

_Can I skype you now?_

He fidgets, hovering his mouse over Iwaizumi’s skype icon waiting impatiently for his approval. He debates simply calling him anyway. His icon is a muted orange signaling ‘away’ but Iwaizumi leaves it there permanently to discourage Oikawa from bothering him. It never works. 

_yeah go ahead_

Oikawa grins, and does just that, smiling after two rings when Iwaizumi fills up his screen sitting up at his desk, dressed crisply from a day of classes. He can see his notebooks out on the desk, mid homework.  

“You’re lucky I only have morning classes on mondays.” Iwaizumi chides, scooting his chair closer and looking at him. “Shit man, you look like shit.”

Oikawa rolls his eyes with a pout, “Eloquent as always, Iwa-chan. Is that my hello?”

Iwaizumi snorts, but frowns into the camera, squinting at him carefully, “Seriously though, you look tired as hell. What time is it over there?”

Oikawa flicks his gaze to the corner of his screen, “It’s only a little past midnight.”

“Yeah, but you’ve been up for like two days because of your flight right?” The spiky haired teen reminds, frowning deeper, “You should get some sleep before you keel over.”

Oikawa whines, “But I stayed up to talk to you! Don’t you wanna hear about all my adventures?”

Iwaizumi seems to hesitate, “...fine. But only for a little while. Don’t start off on a nocturnal foot again this year. It isn’t good for you.” He finishes, leaning back a little in his chair in defeat.

“We can figure out a better skype schedule later. Now let me tell you! America is so weird.”

And Oikawa goes on a long tangent, waving his arms and telling of his adventures and misadventures. Of the terrible food in the cafeteria. Of how many times he was asked if he could use a fork and knife or if he was only capable of using chopsticks. Of the huge shiny facilities that sprawled forever with state of the art equipment. Of how no one could get over the fact the Japanese kid was tall, etc, etc. 

He relishes speaking Japanese, how the words glided from his mouth so smoothly and how much more relaxed he feels and how Iwaizumi laughs when he expected him to and looks shocked and offended at the right times as well. It feels good. It feels right. 

“They sound like dumbasses to me.” Iwaizumi comments after another culture shock episode is described.

“They mean well.” Oikawa defends, smiling softly.

“Probably, and they’ll learn sooner or later you’re an even bigger dumbass anyway.” Iwaizumi decides, taking the moment to crack his knuckles to hide his smile. 

Oikawa whines, pouting, but he doesn’t continue the teasing. Instead, he asks, “Did you do anything exciting today?”

“Not really.” Iwaizumi responds, trying to think. He leans on his desk, supporting his face with his hand, “Just classes as usual. You know Daichi and Sugawara are in my Economics class?” He added suddenly, perking up, “The class is huge and I hadn’t noticed, but Sugawara spoke up today and you can’t miss that head of gray hair anywhere.” 

Oikawa blinks, “Mr. Refreshing has always been intriguing. I wonder if they’ll keep playing volleyball?” 

“I haven’t seen them at practices. But I haven’t really been going myself.” Oikawa makes a tsking noise. Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, “You’re not pre-med. You’re not allowed to scold me.”

Oikawa acquiesces to that, and listens on to Iwaizumi’s own little stories, but he can feel the exhaustion hitting him. It’s a losing battle. And it’s when he feels the most tired that Iwaizumi speaks up. 

“You look like you’re about to die.” The spiky haired teen comments, interrupting his own story, “We should probably stop.” 

“Probably.” Oikawa murmurs sleepily. He sees Iwaizumi smile at him briefly and it looks so natural and loving and Oikawa wishes he had the strength to screenshot it. But it’s gone in an instant and Iwaizumi’s face returns to his stern expression.

“Get some rest ok? I’ll text you.” He states, with nod. 

“Mm.” Oikawa hums, smiling sleepily at him, “Love you.”

Iwaizumi grows a bit red, huffing out an “I love you too.” before shutting his computer down. 

Oikawa doesn’t remember falling asleep, he just remembers smiling. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and chapter 3! kinda meh but whatever. there is just so many things to touch on!
> 
> hope you liked it!
> 
> you can come shout at me at findingschmomo.tumblr.com


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All Oikawa can do is wonder and wonder and wonder some more.

Oikawa lies on the hotel bed, glancing at the Tokyo skyline and wondering when this will all sink in. He’s home, back where he belongs. He wonders if anyone remembers him, but they must. He’s not one to not leave an impact; he’s Oikawa Tooru. 

He’s catching a train in the morning to stay with his parents for a week. He’s a bit terrified. Not about seeing his parents. He’s excited about that. He’d seen them at least once every two years, for the past decade.They would visit him in the U.S. once he made it clear he was too busy to go to Japan, and plus, he wanted to show them the US anyway!

But he does miss his home and he wonders if his mother kept his room the same or converted it into something else. He doesn’t know which would make him sadder, so he decides not to dwell on it. He’ll find out soon anyway. 

What he dreads is across the street, were the Iwaizumi family resides. He wonders if Iwaizumi still lives there. And then realizes that’s idiotic. Because Iwaizumi has clearly moved on. He’s gone off and married some beautiful woman and is probably living a successful life in Tokyo and it’s no ones fault but Oikawa’s. Because he’s an idiot and he ruined everything. Or maybe it was Ushijima’s fault. But it was definitely Oikawa’s fault too. 

Oikawa wracks his brain for exactly what Tobio told him that fateful meet up a year or two ago. All he can remember is the fact that Iwaizumi got married. Because the world stopped then, and Oikawa realized that his procrastination had ruined everything. Because the world didn’t stop just because he was ignoring it. No, his world kept spinning and got on with his life. 

It hurt but he had no right to let it hurt him. 

He wonders how long Iwaizumi has been married. How long had they been dating? When did she steal his heart? What was the ceremony like? Is she pretty? Is she kind? Is she smart? Is she good enough for him? Does she _deserve_ him?

He sits up in bed and decides to take a shower because he honestly can’t deal with any of this. Not now. And the water will distract him. It will. 

He prays that it will. 

But it doesn’t. 

Instead he thinks of Ushijima, and his warm touch, that sends ice through his veins. He hates him, but he hates himself even more. Because in the end Ushijima did nothing wrong, well, except for that last part, but it was all Oikawa really, fucking up every step of the way. Choosing every wrong decision, at every crossroads, until he was left with a dead end in a pit of misery too deep to pull himself out of. 

He soaps up his hair, pulling at one of the brown strands, thinking of Ushijima’s hands in his hair. He’d always had an obsession with it. He couldn’t blame him, he took impeccably good care of his hair. Still, the ace spiker would grab, and tug, and smooth, and fluff. There was rarely a moment when one of his hands wasn’t locked in them. 

Iwaizumi had never played with his hair. He would d fix a lock back into place occasionally, smack him in the head when angry, smooth down some wayward strands at times, but he would never dig in. It was never a focus. He was always touching his face, kissing his cheeks, his forehead, his eyes, his lips, his neck. And his legs, Iwaizumi adored his legs, that was a fact. He would run his fingers along the pale smooth skin, all the way up to the juncture of his hip, back down to his knee. Each journey made with the lightest of touches that made Oikawa shudder and squirm and--

Oikawa shut off the water, stepping into his small room only wearing his towel. 

He grabbed his phone from the nightstand, sliding it open,

“Iwa-chan, 

It’s been too long! But I’m back in Japan and we should meet up! I’m really really sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so so so sorry. I messed up.”

Oikawa deletes the message before his trembling fingers can write out anything more pathetic. 

Instead, he sends his father a message, letting him know he’ll be taking the afternoon train and should be home in time for dinner and that he’ll be around for a week before starting at his new company. That was the plan at least. 

He ran over his own itinerary in his head. Get home. Hang out with the family, eat dinner. Visit the school, try to get in touch with some of his old teammates and check up on them. Maybe he would drop Tobio a line, see what he’s been up to since his tour in America. He’s pretty sure he’s back in Japan by now. He needs to buy some suits for his new job, and then settle into his new apartment. His job is the same as his last, with the added bonus of it being here, and all in Japanese. He’s kind of excited, and wonders what his coworkers will be like. 

He wonders if Iwaizumi’s parents hate him. He wonders what Iwaizumi has told them. He wonders if he should visit them, in their house, so close and yet so far. He wonders and wonders and it hurts so he stops. He plays some dumb app game on his Iphone before deciding to finally sleep. It’s restless, but it’ll have to do. 

* * *

Oikawa has a few hours to kill until his train, and it’s a beautiful day outside, so he decides to spend it in the park, eating his lunch. He did this a lot in New York, and its an old habit to break. Plus, he has no one to eat with anyway, so why waste it sitting at a lonely table?

There are kids everywhere, running around and playing on the swings and playground, but also running around the open fields. There’s a couple climbing up a tree, parents watching like hawks in case one attempts to jump, or accidentally falls. It’s cute. It’s endearing. It’s nostalgic. 

Oikawa remembers playing in the parks near his house, but mostly playing in Iwaizumi’s backyard, because his yard fed into a forest with a neat little creak and plenty of trees to climb. There, they would catch bugs, and climb, and splash, and discuss theories of aliens and volleyball and whatever they learned that day in class. They would wile away hot summer days, tumbling in the grass and dirt. They would build complex snow structures in the cold wintry afternoons. They were kids there, without worries. 

He saw one little boy tackle his friend to the ground, the pair shrieking and laughing and Oikawa smiled. He looked over to see a little girl, about their age, around 5 or 4 laughing and pointing at them. They attempted to drag her down with them but she kept them at bay, giggling as she ran. 

He wondered if the trio had just met in their first year of school, or if they were neighbors, or if they had been friends since they were born. He wonders if they’ll go to the same high school, if they’ll share the same hobbies, if they’ll stay friends forever. If they’ll stay as close and pure as they are now. 

Someone calls a name, and one of the boys scampers off to his mother, leaving his friends behind. They wave him off, but his absence does little to end the fun, as the pair start running towards one of the trees. Oikawa doesn’t know why he watches them so closely, but he does. He wonders what games they’re playing. What the little girl is drawing in the dirt with a stick, carving away a plan of sorts that the little boy listens to greedily. His heart hurts. 

The little boy has a terrible bowl cut and he pities him. He’s wearing a shirt thats a bit too big on him. His clothing doesn’t match at all. _His_ son would never leave the house like that. He would make sure to dress him up in stylish clothing, give him a decent haircut, keep him clean. 

The little girl, however, is adorable. She clearly had parents with some sort of understanding of style. Her shoulder length black hair is pulled back in cute pigtails, and she has a blue little clip that keeps her long bangs at bay. She’s wearing a pretty pale pink top with some sort of design Oikawa can’t make out. She has a little skirt on and some striped stockings that complete the look. Of course, the clothes are a bit muddy now with all the fun she’d been having. 

The two have there heads bowed, talking and examining whatever is marked out in the dirt. The little girl uses a stick to point strategically at the tree, her chubby hands unwavering. The boy is nodding, rubbing his hands together, looking determined. Oikawa assumes their planning to climb the tree as if it were a mountain to scale. 

The girl looks up and towards him, and Oikawa suddenly realize that he’s being _really_ creepy so he quickly turns away. He should probably leave. He can’t live vicariously through children, and really should be heading over to the train station anyway. He didn’t know how he would explain to his father that he missed the train because he was staring at children in the park for too long feeling sorry about himself. 

He picks himself up from the bench, glancing back at the kids one last time. It seems their parents have stopped them in time before they could try their endeavor. The little girl is in, what he assumes to be, her mother’s arms. The boy is being chastised by _his_ mother, and he seems quite grumpy about it. Both women are pretty. The boy’s has dark black straight hair, in a tight ponytail that pulls at her skin (something she’ll regret when it gives her wrinkles, Oikawa thinks). She’s admonishing her son quite sternly. 

The little girl’s mother is prettier, at least in this moment. She has light auburn hair, probably dyed, and it falls to her shoulders in little waves. She has dark eyes. She isn’t saying anything. She looks a bit sad, and she isn’t scolding her daughter, just kind of holding her close. He wonders if there’s something wrong. He wonders if he should go talk to them. 

The little girl looks at him again, and Oikawa swivels around and rushes to the train station, feeling self-conscious. 

* * *

It’s a long train ride, and in the middle of it his phone buzzes. 

_Have you landed?_

 It’s Ushijima and Oikawa wants to throw his phone out the window. But he doesn’t. He ignores it. It buzzes again.

_You are still angry?_

Oikawa is seething, and grabs his phone, angrily jabbing

_of course i’m fucking pissed at you_

A moment passes. 

_I am glad you landed safely. I have contacted her and apologized. We were both under the influence of alcohol._

Oikawa is shaking. 

_I do not understand why you are so angry? You have been in this situation many times before?_

_You have done this before._

Oikawa tries to ignore his phone again. 

_Is it that you are replacing him with me? Because he is married and you fear that may still not stop you?_

Oikawa can’t ignore it.

_why are you so talkative. leave me alone._

Oikawa shuts off his phone and refuses to think about it anymore. He’s being immature and he knows it. He’ll be thirty soon and yet he’s still throwing fits. But he doesn’t even care. He’s upset, he has every right to be upset. 

_You have done this before_

Those words sting, they were said to him the morning after, in a bland tone of indifference. And Oikawa had blown up. Blown up worse than ever before. Screaming, screeching and letting everything boiling in his chestfor so long-- _too long--_ out for the world to see. Left raw and vulnerable and sad to the core. 

And the next day he quit his job, accepted the position in Japan that had been chasing him for months, sold off his condo and bought tickets to come home. Because enough was enough. It was his push to finally leave. To come home. Whatever that meant anymore.  

He leans his head against the train window, breathing out through his nose and trying to get some sleep.  

* * *

Oikawa’s mother embraces him at the train station, chattering rapidly about how ecstatic she is to have him home. His father nods to him with a smile and Oikawa smiles sincerely for the first time in a long, long time. He follows as they lead him to the car and he marvels at all the things that have changed and not changed from his childhood. 

One thing that remains completely static is his room. He walks in and it’s jarring. Nothing has been moved, but it _has_ been freshly cleaned. He sees his volleyballs lying in the corner, sees his desktop monitor setup, sees everything and remembers all the nights Iwaizumi had slept over, or hung out in this very room. If he closes his eyes he can almost reimagine it, see Iwaizumi there, lounging on his bed with a book. See Iwaizumi throwing the book at him. See Iwaizumi meticulously making sure there’s no bump left on his head. See Iwaizumi kiss him down his neck. 

It’s too much. 

He dumps his luggage and escapes back into the main room for dinner. He puts on a smiling face, happily playing the part of the successful son abroad come home to share his spoils. He tells them of his conquest, updates them on the status of his knee, recounts how he got his consulting position, and how the Japanese company had been after him for about a year now. 

His parent’s are delighted and Oikawa is at least happy for them. He used to live off their praise. Now it feels a bit hollow.  

From the corner of his eye, he can see the familiar house across the street through the window. It looks roughly the same, and Oikawa wonders if they ever fixed up the shed in the back, if they ever repainted the dining room, if the tree that formed a makeshift bridge in their backyard had finally rotted away. 

He turns away.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and theres chapter 4! hope you like!
> 
> chapter 5 is gonna be fun :')
> 
> get excited
> 
> come bother me at findingschmomo.tumblr.com


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I miss you a lot. I love you.

It takes two months for the novelty of the States to wear off and leave Oikawa feeling like a husk of himself. Everything feels empty. He feels isolated. He can’t connect. The things that were so simple at home feel impossible. Class is hard, socializing is hard, life is hard.

Back in Japan, Oikawa was a star student. He breezed through his classes, acquiring the admiration and respect of his teachers and peers. He was always the top student in exams, or at least near the top. He grasped concepts easily and studied late into the night to master them after class. He would pester Iwaizumi as he studied for exams all night, knowing that in the morning he would do fine without having to open a book. Iwaizumi always hated him for that. 

Now, however, his usual tactics were no longer working. In class he had to translate the information in his head before even beginning to understand the lesson, and by the time he had a question they had moved on to a different topic. He doesn’t know how to catch up, how to struggle this hard. Nothing is coming to him like it used to. He feels frustrated, he feels _stupid_. He hates it. 

Oikawa Tooru was never a genius, but he was also never _stupid._

On the court, he has trouble connecting. His entire strategy relies on learning his teammates strengths and weaknesses in order to play them. But he can’t seem to learn anything. Sure, his teammates are kind, but it all feels so superficial. He only sees them at practice, and they all seem to be closer to each other than to him. And as a first year, he’s spending more time on the bench than anything, and it’s frustrating. Everything is frustrating. 

He hasn’t made any friends. Not any real friends. Just his teammates. The closest one is probably Ricky, who checks in on him every now and then, but Oikawa can tell that the upperclassman just has a crush on him and he doesn’t have time for that. He has Iwaizumi. Even if he’s leagues away and he just wants to be held sometimes. It’s hard. It’s frustrating. He hates it. 

Iwaizumi is the only person he talks to. Every moment of the day he spends texting him this or that, random thoughts, updates, jokes. He never talks about anything negative. He paints a perfect picture of the perfect life abroad.All the friends he is making, all the points he’s scoring, all the classes he’s enjoying. It makes him a little sick, but he doesn’t want Iwaizumi to worry. And plus, he’s good at putting on a mask. He used to be good at a lot of things, but now it seems like that’s his only remaining talent. 

Even so, he’s just texting into the void. When he’s awake, Iwaizumi is asleep;when Iwaizumi is awake, he’s asleep. And so the days go as Oikawa texts into the void, sleeps, and wakes up to a slew of responses form Iwaizumi. Once a week they meet up at odd hours on skype, but those are getting harder to schedule with midterms on the horizon. 

Oikawa hates it. Oikawa hates everything. 

He’s miserable.

The only thing that keeps him going is knowing he gets to go home for winter break. That he’ll get to see Iwaizumi soon and hold him, and hug him, and kiss him, and _feel_ him. He can’t wait. He needs it more than he’s ever needed anything.

All this, however, changes one mid-November day.  

It’s their first real match and Oikawa can’t bring himself to be excited. He simply goes through the motions.He packs his bags, he rides with his team, he plasters on a charming smile, he gets to his hotel room and he kinda wants to cry. He kinda wants to cry a lot these days. And it sucks. But he holds it in. Takes a deep breath, and heads to the gym for warm up. 

He sends a few last text messages to Iwaizumi before he steps through.

_k time for my first match. wish me luck ^3^_

_not that I really need it of course ;)_

_ill text u after the game. luv u_

The gym is huge and they’re the only ones there. The other team is beginning to file through, but they pay them no mind, too focused on their own last minute practice. Because of this it takes a moment for Oikawa to recognize him. He doesn’t realize until a few minutes before they’re supposed to line up, when he looks over the net and sees Ushijima Wakatoshi staring back at him in surprise. 

Oikawa doesn’t expect, nor does he fully understand, the surge of happiness that swells within him at seeing a familiar face. Of recognizing someone in this foreign sea. And seeing the recognition in Ushijima’s own eyes, suddenly feeling special. And he is hit with a wave of homesickness, an illness that had been fermenting in the pit of his stomach, finally exploding outward. The cure for which stood before him, past a flimsy net.

And he wasn’t going to let it go. 

“Ushiwaka-chan!” Oikawa calls, waving excitedly as he races to the net. Ushijima pauses a moment, looking around before carefully placing the volleyball he was holding down on the ground. He then paces to meet his fellow Japanese, nodding in acknowledgment at his greeting. 

Oikawa glitters, slipping into Japanese easily, with relish, “I didn’t know you were in America too!” He begins, “Are you here on a volleyball scholarship? What have you been up to? Still as annoyingly bland as ever?” He teases, and he feels like himself for a second. Comfortable, confident, cool. Charming. In control.

“Yes. I am.” Ushijima begins, staring at Oikawa critically, as if taking him all in. Oikawa wonders if he felt just as lonely. If he was struggling. If he had someone back home he missed. Was Ushijima even capable of feelings? “I have been playing volleyball.”

Oikawa can’t help but laugh, loudly, letting the feeling seep through his form, and have his shoulders shake. He had not laughed honestly in a long _long_ time. Only the occasional chuckle from a text from Iwaizumi. It wasn’t as if Ushijima had said anything particularly funny. It was just that he had said something so particularly _Ushijima-like_. It felt as if nothing had changed, even though everything had, and Oikawa craved that sameness. That piece of home seas away. 

He didn’t want to part with it. 

Ushijima stares at him, eyebrows furrowed slightly, in non-understanding. Oikawa is about to respond when his captain calls him back to line up. The game is about to start. He would have to catch up with his rival afterwards. 

Even though he sits on the bench most of the game--being a first year--he can’t help but grin the entire time in anticipation. 

* * *

Long after the games are completed there is a migration to a local pub, known for its lax rules--lax carding. Oikawa ends up there with his team, hoping to catch Ushijima, and does. The awkward man is standing with his team, sipping at his own drink, probably offered to him. He’s tense and looks out of place, staring down at the table as his teammates joke loudly around him. 

Oikawa eyes him, makes a motion, and Ushijima seems to understand--or maybe he simply wants to get away from his very drunk teammates--and makes his way over to Oikawa’s side. 

They sit side by side, ignoring their teammates increasingly drunk merrymaking. They form their own bubble, with their shared tongue that they’ve both missed using. Oikawa doesn’t want it to end. He doesn’t realize how much he has missed speaking Japanese, how much comfort it brings him to have words come so easily to him. To feel fluent, to feel eloquent, to not feel _stupid_. 

It’s late in the night and he can feel his phone buzzing but he could care less at the moment. Too focused on listening to Ushijima’s own stunted recollection of his past few months at college. The similar longing for home, the difficulty adapting to a new country, the pain of speaking English. 

Oikawa is surprised at how he hangs on every word. He’s surprised that the anger for this person, boiling for six years of his life, is quieted down so easily. How he clings to the man he kept at bay for so long. He wonders how much of it is from the steady alcohol he is consuming and how much of it is from his sappy lonely heart. 

But the alcohol definitely does help. It’s hazy in the bar, and dim, and getting progressively louder. It’s why he’s leaning so close to Ushijima, to hear him over the din. And he’s getting dizzy, and that’s why he starts holding on to Ushijima’s strong arm. For support. Only for support. 

And then he doesn’t really remember leaving the bar. But they do. He remembers Ushijima stumbling heavily and he remembers supporting Ushijima as much as Ushijima supports him. He’s surprised he doesn’t remember falling once. 

And then there’s another blur. He thinks at one point he starts crying, and he doesn’t know why. The tears just wont go away, as Ushijima ducks him into his hotel room and offers him tissues as he blows his nose pathetically. 

And then he remembers crawling toward Ushijima, whining and pleading and he remembers Ushijima mumbling something. But he silences him with a needy kiss and then he remembers everything quite clearly.

They start against the wall, with Oikawa rutting into him desperately, never leaving his assault on his rival’s lips. He’s holding Ushijima close, constantly trying to get closer, and closer, until there is nothing left of himself. It feels like an excruciating moment, but finally Ushijima’s hands relax at his sides, where they had been in tight tense fists, to roam freely along Oikawa’s body. 

Oikawa maneuvers him masterfully, guides his large, calloused hands towards his rear, letting Ushijima cup his ass and have a field day. Throughout this he murmurs encouraging moans and groans against Ushijima’s slick lips, peeking up at him with watery brown eyes. Hold me _closer_ , grope me _harder_. 

From this angle Oikawa can appreciate Ushijima--well, appreciate as best he can with the world swirling around him in a drunken haze. He admires Ushijima’s strong jawline, the light stubble grazing his cheek every time he goes in for a hot kiss, his dark eyes peering straight into him, his coarse dark hair a bit sweaty from the bar. He tastes of alcohol and salty sweat and Oikawa laps him all up desperately.

At one point they end up on the bed, and Oikawa has successfully disrobed them both of their clothing. 

Oikawa knows they don’t have sex. They’re too drunk, too messy, too uncoordinated, for that kind of complex venture. But he does remember Ushijima’s strong grip around him, stroking him hard and slow and _thorough_. And Oikawa remembers falling apart like that, arching his back and groaning. He’s pretty sure he got Ushijima off too, but it’s hazier, an action post bliss, slow and warm. And then he remembers sleeping, exhausted, spent, in more ways than one. 

When Oikawa wakes up, he knows exactly what he’s done. It’s clear as the marks he made on Ushijima’s back. It’s as clear as Ushijima’s resting face, brows furrowed as if permanent. It’s as real as the dirty sheets he’s sitting in. It’s as real as the vomit he forces out into the toilet when he gets out of bed. It’s as real as the regret and self hatred that pools into his empty stomach, more forceful than ever before.

He doesn’t know what time it is. He doesn’t know anything other than that he’s fucked up, fucked up worse than ever before. He’s shaking, shuddering. 

He gropes for his phone, crawling back into the bathroom and closing the door, careful not to wake Ushijima. He presses it on, and sees its 10:22 AM, and the light of the screen is blinding. 

But he also sees 19 unread messages, and he wants to die. He can barely make them out through his tears but he knows they’re all from Iwaizumi. Because they always text each other throughout the day, for the other to read when they wake up. Like a morning paper, personalized for the one they love. 

Oikawa wants to throw his phone out the window. 

Oikawa wants to throw himself out the window. 

He slides his phone open. 

_Wow you only sent like four messages must have been a busy day._

_Hope your game goes well. Don’t be too stingy with your tosses._

_Also, DO YOUR READINGS DUMBASS! Don’t just ignore them cause they’re boring. Academics are important. You can’t just copy off my notes anymore._

_My test went well. Do you know Sugawara is also pre-med? He’s thinking of going into Pediatrics instead of Athlete Care. We’re taking all the same classes though._

_I went home after my last class. Gonna stay there all weekend. Mom says hi. Also, your mom says you don’t call enough. You should call more, I know you love hearing yourself talk so you have no excuses._

_I visited Seijoh and they seem to be doing well. Kindaichi says hi. He was very adamant I tell you that._

_You know the tree in my backyard? The one that makes a bridge? I think its starting to rot. I don’t know how long its gonna last. I’ll show you when you come back. I might have to help my dad clear it out in the spring though._

_I found some of our old vhs tapes, you know how you would like, record all those discovery channel specials on aliens? You always left a ton here. I watched some. They’re still stupid._

_Your texts haven’t been as noisy lately. Are you sulking? Stop that. Imagine me punching your gut right now._

_Seriously though, are you doing ok? You know you can tell me._

_I love you._

_I miss you a lot._

_Fuck I always get sappy late at night thinking about you._

_It’s your fault that happens. You and your stupid alien obsession._

_Whenever I see the stars I think of you._

_That sounded more poetic than I meant it. You’re not that special. Don’t let it get to your giant ass head. You have a big enough ego already._

_I should sleep._

_I love you._

_Good night._

Oikawa does throw his phone, letting it clatter on the other side of the small bathroom, hitting the tile roughly. He wonders if its broken. He hopes it is. 

He’s sobbing into his knees. 

He’s a mess. 

He’s ruined everything, and he doesn’t know how he can ever make it up to Iwaizumi. How he can ever look him in the eyes. How he can ever feel happy again knowing what he had done. That he had cheated on him, and on _Ushijima_ no less. It’s disgusting. Sickening. 

He hates himself.

He sits there, crying and sniffling, and feeling like shit until theres a light knock on the door. 

He knows its Ushijima and he knows its time to go.

He just doesn’t know where he’s headed anymore. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i drink tears for breakfast
> 
> hope y'all enjoyed!
> 
> come yell at me at findingschmomo.tumblr.com
> 
> see ya next time


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back then, they were only kids and everything was how it should be.

Oikawa lets out a piercing shriek as he tips over into the creek, hands flying back to try to catch himself. He ends up landing on his butt, the water lapping high up at his waist. His shorts are soaked, and he starts tearing up, pouting angrily at the boy who pushed him. 

Iwaizumi is laughing, clutching at his stomach and leaning forward. His large brimmed straw hat has fallen to the ground, and his bucket has been safely placed aside. He’s tearing up too, but for vastly different reasons. 

“Iwa-chan is so mean!” Oikawa sputters, standing up with difficulty. His shorts cling to him awkwardly, saturated a darker blue from the water. It’s enough that it drips down his bare knees and calves. He wipes at his snotty nose with the back of his hand, blinking back the tears of betrayal and turns away from his best friend. Instead, he climbs up the bank of the other side of the creek. 

Oikawa is done with Iwaizumi. Done with him forever he decides. So he doesn’t turn around, but crosses his arms angrily as he stands there, cold and upset. He hears Iwaizumi quiet down his laughter and take in a sigh, “To-chan, come on. Don’t be like that. _You_ were the one being a butt.”

“I was _not_.” Oikawa defends, spinning around to face him from the other side. Offended. He was the _victim_ here!

“Were too.” Iwaizumi rebuts, sitting down calmly to take off his shoes and socks. He slips the latter into his shoes neatly to make sure they don’t get dirty. He doesn’t want his mom to yell at him. “You said bugs were stupid.”

“They are.” Oikawa affirms, sitting down and copying Iwaizumi from his side of the creek, mostly because his socks are wet and gross and his feet feel slimy and he wants them off. He just kind of kicks them off however, he doesn’t really want to touch them now. They’re dirty and icky. “It’s a fact.”

“Then go home.” Iwaizumi spits out and descends into the creek without another word. He slides down the bank with practiced ease, landing inside the creek, where the water is shallow and comes up to his mid-calf. He has his bucket in hand, and net in the other, ready. 

Oikawa frowns, digging his heels into the wet mud at his feet. He draws his knees up to his chest, hugging himself tightly and watching as Iwaizumi starts wading through the water, eyes intently watching its translucent surface. Completely ignoring him. He hates it.

“...I thought we were going hunting for tadpoles, not bugs.” Oikawa murmurs, frowning at his knees. Not only had he been betrayed, but lied to as well. 

Iwaizumi doesn’t look at him, “I am.”

Oikawa whines, “We are.” He insists with a little huff, glaring at the other little boy. Was he already forgotten?

“No, we’re not.” Iwaizumi says matter of factly, looking up to stare at him finally, “You’re sitting in the mud.” 

Oikawa whines harder, picking himself up and sliding down the bank back into the creek. “I wanna help.” He pleads, fidgeting, all gangly limbs and open teary eyes. 

Iwaizumi looks over at him, and he seems to soften. Because Iwaizumi can never win with Oikawa. Oikawa always ends up getting his way. But only because Iwaizumi would rather have fun with Oikawa than to be alone. And so his eyes do shine a little as he states, “Ok. Grab one of the nets in the bucket and go.”

Oikawa grins at the permission, running over and shoving a hand into the bucket only to screech as _something slimy_ slides between his fingers. He pulls back in horror, a slug crawling up his arm, and he shudders gagging at the horrendous sight. He’s about to cry (again), breathing heavily and frozen in horror. 

Oikawa jumps when a hand touches his arm but he relaxes as best he can when he sees that it’s only Iwaizumi. His hold is soft, careful, and his eyebrows are furrowed as he studies the problem. But then the slug _moves_ _closer up his arm_ and Oikawa shrieks at the feeling and wants to flail his arm. But Iwaizumi keeps him still with his grip. 

With his other hand, Iwaizumi delicately picks off the slug. It clings to Oikawa’s arm, his skin stretching up as the slug gives a good fight to remain attached. The sight makes Oikawa queasy, but eventually the creature lets go. Iwaizumi flicks it into the distance, “Stop screaming.”

Oikawa tackles him into a hug, arms wrapping around him as tight as can be, “Iwa-chan is so cool!” He cries out, squeezing him in relief. “So brave! A hero disguised as a brute!”

Iwaizumi flushes a little, but hugs him back just the same, patting him on the back. “It’s just a slug.” He mutters, a bit red at the attention. 

“I’ve made a decision!” Oikawa ignores, pulling back, and placing his hands on his best friend’s shoulders. 

Iwaizumi tilts his head with a frown. He’s used to Oikawa’s _ideas_ and he’s not much of a fan of them. Although, he usually ends up going along with them regardless. Still, he knows this can’t be anything good. 

“You will be my first knight in my kingdom!” Oikawa affirms, grinning brightly. He gives a little official nod. 

Iwaizumi is unimpressed, “Why are you the King?” He questions, with a raised eyebrow. 

“I’m prettier.” Oikawa states, obviously, smiling widely with a certain spark in his eyes. Iwaizumi can’t really argue with that but it doesn’t mean he agrees with it at all. It’s not like it’s hard to be prettier than himself, he thinks. And Oikawa has always been pretty. Prettier than anyone else in the world. 

Not that he would tell him that. Oikawa’s ego doesn’t need any help. 

Iwaizumi snorts, “King of Garbage.”

Oikawa pouts, “But you’d still be my knight right?” He repeats, exagerating his pout in a way he knows Iwaizumi can’t resist. He squeezes the other’s shoulders with his hands encouragingly. 

Iwaizumi can’t help the slight smile that finally overtakes his visage, “You’d die if I wasn’t.” He reminds, with slightest tease of his lips. 

Oikawa laughs, smacking Iwaizumi playfully before taking his bug net from his lax hand and slipping back into the creek. Iwaizumi lets him, picking out his second net from the bucket before rushing to his side. 

They end up forgetting about their quest for tadpoles and instead play sword fights with their respective net weapons, stabbing and poking and laughing. Iwaizumi easily wins and Oikawa claims he’s cheating to which Iwaizumi responds by piercing him right in the heart. 

Oikawa stumbles back dramatically, dying on the bank in a flourish of arms and agonizing cries. He lies there still, really selling it before remembering his last words. “You...betrayed...your King...” and then making a loud gagging noise before finally succumbing to death. He’d give himself a gold star for his performance. 

Iwaizumi snickers at the theatrics, watching the display in amusement, “I did it for the kingdom.”

Oikawa sits up with a start, “That’s so mean, Iwa-chan!” He starts to stand up, wiggling a little, “I would be a _great_ King!” He defends with an indignant huff. 

Iwaizumi shrugs, “We’ll see.” He pretends to sheathe his sword, slipping his bug net into one of the loops of his shorts. 

Oikawa whines, pouting and turning away, “Fine. I’ll go find a better knight.” He snaps, scrambling up the bank and marching up the hill to reach the wooded area that marks the edge of Iwaizumi’s backyard.

“To-chan!” He can hear Iwaizumi call from behind him, but Oikawa is sulking and refuses to answer, trudging deeper into the woods. Plus, he likes it when Iwaizumi is nice to him, when he comforts him, when he tries to make him feel better and so he can’t help but draw those situations out. 

“To-chan!”

He also likes hearing his nickname. Oikawa smiles a little but forces his face back into a deep frown and decides to duck behind a bush. He peers out and waits as Iwaizumi walks over a few seconds later. He looks around with a deep frown, his thick little eyebrows furrowing exagerating the ridges around his nose. It’s cute, Oikawa thinks. He’s going to get wrinkles before high school, he also thinks. 

“To-chan!” Iwaizumi shouts again, looking around on his tip toes. Oikawa decides thats enough of worrying Iwaizumi to an early death. But at the same time, he’s not completely done. 

“To-chan died because you were mean.” Oikawa calls from his hiding spot, trying to sound like a ghost or maybe an alien. Although he’s not sure what either would actually sound like. He does his best to sound sad and creepy and as far away as possible. 

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, turning toward the source of the voice immediately, “Stop that, you’re not actually dead.” The boy reminds, taking a step towards the bush he realizes Oikawa is hiding behind. 

“And if I was?” Oikawa continues, crossing his arms even though Iwaizumi can’t really see him through the foliage.  

“I’d avenge my King.” Iwaizumi states firmly, unsheathing his ne and swinging it like a great sword. It sounds really silly, but he says it firmly and with a straight face, looking intently at the bush. 

Oikawa reddens, his heart beats erratically, and a smile blossoms on his muddy little face, “Really?” He asks, quietly, in awe. 

“No.” Iwaizumi responds instantly and there’s a whine building in Oikawa’s throat, but Iwaizumi pushes past the bush and offers him his hand, “I’d avenge my best friend.”

Oikawa blinks, taking the hand while his mind still reels over the words. He steps out of the bush, feels red, and Iwaizumi is a bit red too. Because this silly game of make believe got a little too weird even for them. Oikawa pulls back his hand, a little sweaty but plasters on a confident smile, “That doesn’t count if I’m your only friend, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi slaps his shoulder. Hard. 

They descend into giggles once more and recommence their mock fighting in the forest. As the sky darkens however, they hear Iwaizumi’s mother calling their names. And so they rush past over the little creek on the sturdy trunk of a fallen tree, felled by a recent storm, picking up their shoes along the way. They never stop laughing as they go, until they reach the home and are scolded for how dirty they’ve become. 

They wash up slightly before dinner and Oikawa asks if he can stay over, and then calls his mother for permission which he easily gets. No one is surprised by this turn of events. In fact, Iwaizumi’s mother has already pulled out a fresh pillow and spare pajamas for her son’s best friend. 

After their meal the pair take an actual--and much needed--bath, snickering as they splash each other in the tub. Oikawa claims he can hold his breath longer and Iwaizumi tells him he’s a liar. But for once, Oikawa wins, and Iwaizumi hates to admit it, crossing his arms with a huff. Oikawa is all grins and teases and sighs about how much better he clearly is. Iwaizumi knows this will inflate his ego more than he cant take so he decides to cut the celebrations short. 

Iwaizumi prompts a race to his bedroom. Before Oikawa can agree he is already darting out of the tub, almost forgetting his towel in the process. Oikawa squawks, shouting out how much of a cheater he is as he scrambles to follow. They end up in the room, seconds apart. Oikawa is whining incessantly while Iwaizumi rolls his eyes and barks at him to put his clothes on. 

Iwaizumi’s mom checks in on them then, hearing all the shouting and stamping around. She finds them in their pajamas, hair still soaking wet, playing with their little video games. They peak up at her when she enters, as if they _weren’t_ hollering to kingdom come minutes earlier. 

“Your father has work tomorrow. Don’t be so loud.” She scolds, looking at her son. Her expression reads loud and clear, _I expect better from you_. 

“Yes, Mom.” Iwaizumi responds, looking up briefly from his game. 

“Dry your hair.” She continues, sternly, “You’ll catch a cold.”

“Yes, Mom.” Iwaizumi sighs, but in his head he think he needs to finish this battle before he can do anything. 

She clicks her tongue when he makes no move to follow her order, taking the towel from his shoulders and ruffling it through her son’s hair. He frowns and reddens looking away from his screen. Oikawa snickers into his hand at the scene. Iwaizumi’s mother takes his own towel and ruffles up his hair next and it’s all Oikawa can do not to squawk indignantly because he’s not _that_ rude. He just smiles politely and endures it. Iwaizumi wants to laugh but he doesn’t. 

“Ok, Mom.” He manages, hoping she gets the idea to leave them be. 

She raises a brow, “Yes, yes I know. You have important business to handle clearly.” She sighs out teasingly. Iwaizumi huffs, his blush still dusting his cheeks. She bends down then, placing a little kiss on his forehead, “Good night, Hajime.” 

“Goodnight, Mom.” Iwaizumi replies, rubbing the spot absently with his fingers.

“Goodnight Tooru. Don’t stay up too late.” His mother calls from the door. 

“Goodnight Iwaizumi-san!” Oikawa waves, and finally the woman leaves the room. Iwaizumi breathes a sigh of relief

Oikawa starts playing with his hair, trying to smooth it back into place, “Does it look ok?” He asks Iwaizumi quietly and Iwaizumi knows better than to tease Oikawa about his hair. He takes too much pride in it. 

“You look fine.” He states before looking back at his gameboy. “Ok, what Pokemon do you have?” Oikawa shows off his team and the pair compare their selections. “Your team sucks.” Iwaizumi decides bluntly.

Oikawa is every bit offended, “Well, your team is ugly.” He quickly counters. 

“It doesn’t matter what they look like as long as their strong.” Iwaizumi argues back, pursing his lips and looking back at his team. They weren’t ugly at all. They were cool looking. Oikawa just had terrible taste. 

They fall back into a little silence, the sound of their gameboys filling in the air. And it’s fine like this, sitting side by side in the dimly lit room after a warm bath. It’s relaxing. Iwaizumi yawns a little. 

“How come only you got a goodnight kiss?” Oikawa breaks the silence,thinking aloud while battling a random trainer.  

“Huh? Cause she’s my mom. Not yours.” Iwaizumi offers easily, as he spams the run button on a wild Pokemon. He yawns again, squinting at his screen. 

“My mom kisses you goodnight when you stay over.” Oikawa points out, after he finishes his battle. 

Iwaizumi shrugs at that, “Maybe I’m better than you. My team definitely is.” He adds with a little playful smirk. 

“Your team is just gross bugs.” Oikawa snaps. 

“It’s not _just_ bugs. There’s a pidgey there.” Iwaizumi defends quickly, “If you keep making fun of them I’ll catch a Beedrill and name it after you.”

“No! Those are the _grossest_. They don’t deserve my name.” Oikawa shouts, glaring at him. Iwaizumi snickers at that but lets it drop. 

Still, something bothers him, “Why do you want my mom to kiss you?”

“I don’t!” Oikawa huffs, focusing more intently on his game, “I was just making an observation. Just like coach tells us to. Observe everything. Learn. You know?”

“My mom isn’t going to play volleyball with us.” Iwaizumi responds blandly. 

“That’s not the point, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa sighs out, exasperated. 

“This is stupid.” Iwaizumi rolls his eyes. 

“You’re stupid.” Oikawa mutters. 

“You’re stupider.” 

Oikawa huffs again, saving his game and turning his gameboy off, “You’re so _mean_ , Iwa-chan.”

“I’m mean?” Iwaizumi looks over indignantly, “You called _me_ stupid first.”

“I was just stating facts. You were shouting out _lies_.” Oikawa explains easily, reminding of the gravity of the situation. For shame, Iwa-chan.  

Iwaizumi swats him on the head and Oikawa lets out a loud whine, cradling his wound, peaking his teary eyes up at his best friend. But Iwaizumi isn’t there. Oikawa immediately drops the pitiful act to look around and find his friend has already crawled into his bed. 

Oikawa follows after a moment--after he saves Iwaizumi’s game for him and turns his gameboy off. “Iwa-chaaaaan.” He calls. 

Iwaizumi ignores him, turned on his side. Once he feels Oikawa’s weight on the bed he switches the light off beside him, and the room is plunged into darkness.  

Oikawa waits a minute, adjusting to the lack of light. When he can see the faint outline of the furniture in Iwaizumi’s room he turns on his side to look over at his friend who _still_ hasn’t responded to him. He nudges his shoulder, nibbling his lip for a second, “Are you actually mad at me?”

Iwaizumi takes his pillow and swats the other in the face, “No.”

Oikawa whines, shoving the pillow off his face. “So sensitive.” He sighs. 

Iwaizumi snorts at that.

“What?” Oikawa asks, perplexed. 

“I’m sensitive? You cried yesterday while watching your alien show.” Iwaizumi reminds him with a grin, hidden in the darkness. 

“It ended inconclusive! And i didn’t _cry_.”

“It always ends inconclusive.”

“That’s why its _so upsetting_.”

“Aliens aren’t real.”

“You TAKE THAT BACK, IWA-CHAN.”

Iwaizumi giggles faintly from where he’s turned on his side. Oikawa shakes his shoulder, sitting up for more leverage. “TAKE IT BACK, IWA-CHAN. TAKE IT BACK _RIGHT NOW_.”

“I can’t take back _the truth_.” Iwaizumi counters but his voice wavers under the weight of his laughter. And yet Oikawa remains deathly serious. 

“IWA-CHAN I’M GOING TO PUNCH YOU.” Oikawa threatens, but his voice cracks into a higher pitch in the middle.

“You can’t even get a slug off your arm.” His friend reminds him playfully. 

“ _IWA-CHAN_!” And Oikawa sounds legitimately upset, so Iwaizumi quiets down his laughter. 

He finally rolls over onto his back, “What?” He finds Oikawa lying back down and looking at the ceiling with a frown. 

“...Do you really think they’re not real?” He mutters seriously, turning his gaze to fidget with the bedspread. 

Iwaizumi turns completely to his side to face his best friend, “I don’t know.” 

Oikawa purses his lips, letting a breath out through his nose. “They have to be out there, Iwa-chan. Space is huge. I just know they’re out there somewhere.”

“You’re ten you don’t know anything.”

“Neither do you!” 

Iwaizumi pauses a moment, “Yeah, ok.”

Oikawa smirks at his tiny victory. “When we’re older I’ll prove you wrong.”

“Who says I’ll still tolerate you?” Iwaizumi counters dryly, letting out his third yawn of the night.

“Silly, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa laughs, “We’re best friends. It’s too late now.”

Iwaizumi groans, but he smiles in the darkness at the sentiment. He feels Oikawa turn to his side, facing him as well.

“Goodnight Iwa-chan.” Oikawa murmurs, and Iwaizumi can see his eyes are closed, and his face is very close. He wonders if he’s already asleep but his brown eyes blink open again, “Thanks for saving me today.” He adds, quietly. 

Iwaizumi snorts, and on a sudden whim presses a little kiss to Oikawa’s hair, right above his forehead, “Goodnight To-chan. No more complaining.”

Oikawa laughs at that, nudging the other with his arm before repeating his goodnight. And soon the pair are fast asleep and everything is ok. Everything is fine just the way it is. 

Just the way it’s supposed to be. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! But heres the next one. Just some fluffy childhood happy times. Sorry about last chapter's existence lol. We'll get back into the emotional storm next chapter. 
> 
> See you then!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which oikawa meets an old friend

Oikawa sips at his coffee idly in the shop, staring at his laptop pensively. His life had slipped back into routine the past few weeks and he embraces it. Assimilating back into Japan is a bit more difficult than he had originally thought, but nothing he can’t handle. 

He’s moved into his apartment in the heart of Tokyo. A simple one bedroom, one bath, but in a great location, right near the metro. Getting to work is a breeze. It’s currently sparsely decorated, but only because he hasn’t had the chance to buy new furniture. Only the bare necessities. He has plans though. Wonderful plans, to decorate the place into his new home. 

Work is nice. Being his charming self is much easier when he knows the language by heart, and slipping into his confident persona again is like slipping on your favorite jacket you thought you lost forever ago. It just feels right. Feels like home.

His coworkers seem like good people too. He’s been out drinking with a couple of them. Unfortunately none of them are lookers. Well, the one lady is quite the catch, with a sharp witty tongue and sweet smile. Michimiya, is her name. He doesn’t know much about her, other than that she worries a bit too much. He’d like to get to know her better. But he’s come to realize over the years that he is much more partial to men than women. Still, she seems like a worthy friend. 

Everything seemed to be falling into place. He was happier, more fulfilled, less pitiful. Less clingy of the past. He was finally beginning to move on. And it wasn’t as if he had always been so pathetic. In fact, a good majority of his years in the U.S. had been _fantastic_ , filled with playing on one of the best teams in the world. It was only recently that he had fallen into such a deep pit of self-loathing. But he was pushing past it again. Because Oikawa Tooru refuses to stay down for too long. 

He types up another work email, taking another sip of his coffee. He glances up from his screen, yawning a little. It’s early morning and Oikawa is not a morning person at all. However, he’d had trouble sleeping the night before, tossing and turning and lying awake. And finally at five am he had decided to give up and get up. 

He didn’t have a coffee maker at home, a luxury he had grown used to in America, but the coffee shop was right by his apartment so he had decided to be at least a little productive and venture out towards the little shop and tackle some work e-mails. He didn’t have to get on his train for work for another hour or so anyway. 

It’s becoming a more reasonable hour, and the morning rush is starting to fill the tiny spot. The line is growing, filled with suited businessmen and women, high school students with their bags and the occasional parent toting a napping toddler in their arms. 

Oikawa watches them a moment, amused, before turning back to his e-mail. He needs to get in touch with a few other departments about their current project. He needs to focus. But the sigh of high schoolers in their pristine uniforms brings a small ache to his heart. 

He was getting better. Better at moving on. But not completely. He’d spent almost ten years not thinking about him--almost. It was only recently that a certain someone had been consuming his thoughts. That a certain event opened the heartbreak and can of worms he’d worked so hard to bury deep deep down. 

He was being childish.

He should call him. 

It would be the adult thing to do. 

Oikawa glances at his phone, swiping it open to reveal the note app with seven digits marked down and the name Iwaizumi Hajime typed out underneath. He stares at it and feels his stomach churn. He bites his lip before letting out a sigh and turning back to his computer. 

He had gotten the number from Kindaichi a few weeks ago,back when he was still visiting his parents in Miyagi. It makes him a bit nauseous to look at the numbers, taunting him from the small screen. It makes him a bit sick to think of the memory. Sick enough to throw up.  

* * *

The first thing Oikawa notices is that Kindaichi has cut his hair. It is no longer gelled up to a comical height, warranting the nickname of turnip head. Rather, the strands are casually slicked up, as if brushed through with his fingers only. It looks good on him. It looks a bit like Iwaizumi did. 

Oikawa swallows, but puts on a charming smile, if only a bit tight at the edges.

Kindaichi is stiff and nervous, and looks as awkward as he’d always been. It’s nice. It had felt as though everything around him had changed. But it’s nice to know that Kindaichi’s personality remained as he remembered. 

“Oikawa-san it’s good to see you.” Kindaichi starts, dipping his head down slightly. Oikawa chuckles, waving him off. 

“Oikawa is fine.” The ex-captain smiles, “Thanks for meeting me.”

“Of course!” Kindaichi quickly sputters, nodding a few more times to be sure, “I was so surprised! Is this your first visit to Japan?” He continues, finally sitting down. He’s a bit flushed from his nerves, and his hands are tense in his laps. Oikawa wishes he’d calm down. 

Oikawa nods, taking a sip of his drink hoping his cool and calm aura will envelop his junior, “I’ve actually moved back. I’m here permanently.”

Kindaichi’s eyes widen and he perks up, “Really?”

Oikawa cracks another smile, “I transferred to a company in Tokyo so I’ll be out there from now on.” He explains easily. It’s nice to feel missed and wanted. Kindaichi has always been a good kid in his eyes. 

“That’s amazing!” And Kindaichi is all grins for him and Oikawa quite enjoys the attention. Their conversation soon moves on to Kindaichi’s current state, how his college days were, how his college team was, how he’s working on getting another degree. Oikawa listens to it all pleasantly. 

And then the conversations moves on yet again, “I see Kunimi all the time but I haven’t seen Matsukawa, Hanamakki or Iwaizumi since the wedding, unfortunately.”

Oikawa clenches his hand against the cup he’s holding reflexively but decides to feign ignorance, “Wedding?”

Kindaichi blinks at the question, “Iwaizumi’s wedding?” He repeats, looking up at his senior, his eyebrows furrowed slightly.

Oikawa nods, “Oh right! I was upset I missed it.” _I wasn’t invited_ , _understandably_ “How was it?” He hopes he sounds genuine. He hopes Kindaichi can’t tell that his teeth are clenched behind his smile. He hopes he can’t see how tight his fist is under the table where it sits on his thigh. 

Apparently he doesn’t, because Kindaichi looks a bit more at ease now, “It must have been five years now? Four? Time flies. It was really nice. The whole thing was outside. It’s funny, do you remember Sawamura? He was Karasuno’s captain when you were captain. He was the best man! They became friends in college, is what they said.” 

Oikawa nods slowly, quietly. The fist on his thigh is so tight his knuckles are white. He thinks about an old promise he made. An old promise he was sure to break, but not like this. Never like this. 

“Bu-But I’m sure you’d have been the best man if you were able to come.” Kindaichi covers awkwardly, perhaps sensing the tension in the air but misreading it. Oikawa tries to relax himself, uncurling his hand. “But i mean you must know all this already anyway. You guys are best friends!”

Oikawa tries not to grimace, “I actually haven’t talked to him in a while.” He confesses. He tries to make it sound nonchalant. Like its no big deal to cut ties with your best friend in the whole wide world. Like it means nothing to him, this hole he dug himself into years ago. 

Kindaichi blinks yet again, “Did you lose his number or something? I have it! Do you want it?”

“Er, I--“ Oikawa flounders, his chest tightening. 

He’s building a protest in the back of his throat but Kindaichi is already pulling his phone out, dictating the numbers and so Oikawa obediently jots them down with shaky fingers onto his phone. He soon after steers the conversation away from the past, and toward the future once more, and they both relax. 

It ends up being a nice talk, and Kindaichi promises to keep in touch and try to spread the word of Oikawa’s return. His senior thanks him for that and they part ways.

All Oikawa can think about is the number burning a hole in his pocket. 

* * *

Oikawa blinks out of the memory. 

He’s still only two sentences into his important e-mail, he realizes with a sigh. He leans back, and sees the café is quite packed now. A glance at his watch lets him now its almost seven. He wonders if he should just pack up and head to work now, get there early, get some praise. 

He ponders and finishes his coffee, staring at nothing in particular until a figure breaks his field of vision. 

He blinks, sitting up and looking down at a little girl squinting up at him. She has black shoulder length hair, silky and recently combed. She has an elementary school uniform on, a white shirt with a pale pink skirt that reaches her little beat up knees. They have little bandages on them from minor cuts, it seems. Her bangs are swept to the side and held by a pretty blue hair pin. 

Oikawa’s eyes widen in recognition. 

He had definitely seen this little girl before. 

But before he can put it all together the girl speaks up, eyes wide and knowing, “The famous guy!” She shouts, accusingly, pointing a finger at him. 

Oikawa blinks, eyebrows furrowing at the exclamation. He’s about to say something when suddenly the little girl decides to kick him right in the knee. 

His right knee. 

His _bad_ knee. 

His chair screeches back as he pulls away, clutching at his knee and swearing obscenely loudly. His eyes water a bit from the sheer hot pain that shoots up his leg and through his core. Children pack a punch and then have the _audacity_ to _giggle_ at your pain, he notices. But the pain is enough to send him to sniveling tears. Still,he’s a grown man and he tries to hold the tears back as best he can. They simply crowd around his eyes blurring his vision.

He realizes, as his face heats up in embarrassment, that the entire café has fallen silent and is staring at them. He also realizes he just shouted a very nasty word at the top of his lungs in public. Everyone is still and watching them and he realizes this can’t get any worse. And than it does get worse as one man pushes his way through toward them, “Oh my god, I am _so_ sorry.” The man starts apologizing, and Oikawa can feel his blood running cold and the pain in his knee is momentarily forgotten. 

The man swoops down to pick up the girl, “Kaede what’s gotten into you? Kicking a stranger?” He scolds seriously, glaring at the little girl who’s frowning and looking down, suddenly apologetic now that her father is here to discipline her. 

“Kaede...” Oikawa breathes out the name. _Kaede._ He’s lost in a memory. A place he’d rather be than this reality. This horrible, cruel reality.

The man looks away from his daughter and finally faces him, “I’m very sorry about th--“

But then he falls deathly silent. 

Because Oikawa knows exactly who the man he’s looking at is, with his stern face, his pointed brows, his dark hair, his piercing green eyes. He’s still five cm shorter. He’s still as handsome as ever. 

Iwaizumi looks pale, as if he’s seeing a ghost, enough to cause his little girl to look up in alarm from her petulant gaze at the ground, “Oikawa?” He asks the air around him, mouth left open, eyebrows drawn in such an expression of confusion and sadness. It almost sounds like an empty wish, breathed out into the wind.

Oikawa cant take it. 

He can’t take that broken look. He just can’t. 

And he lets the pent up tears start to fall down his trembling face.

There in the middle of the café, a grown ass man, sobbing into his hands like the awful child he is inside. 

Oikawa hates how weak he’s become. 

But mostly, he just hates himself. 

Iwaizumi, it appears, begins to work on instinct, grabbing his arm in a tight grip, as if he’d slip away at any second. Evaporate into the air without a trace. Leave him again. His face is empty of anything. 

Oikawa is dragged out of the coffee shop, feebly remembering to grab his laptop with him. He’s trying to quiet himself down, feeling pathetic and terrible and they _still_ haven’t exchanged any words but Iwaizumi is leading him to his parked car. Iwaizumi lets go of him in front of the vehicle, but gives him a stern look as if to say _Don’t you dare fucking leave_. The ‘again’ is implied, but Oikawa can feel it with the sting of distrust in those darkened green eyes. 

Oikawa fidgets there, wiping at his gross wet face with the back of his hands. He watches as Iwaizumi opens the back door, buckling his daughter into her car seat with care and smoothing a lock of her hair behind her ear. She watches him, wide eyed, as he whispers something to her. He pulls back and closes the door.

And then he looks at him. 

Oikawa turns his head away. _Weak_. _Pathetic and weak. Can’t even face him._

Iwaizumi opens the door to the passenger seat.

Oikawa hesitates. Iwaizumi hardens.

“Iwaizumi-” Oikawa begins, shakily, voice raw from crying. He’s trying to protest. To delay even more. He’s not ready. He’s not ready. He’s not--

“Don’t make me curse in front of her. Get in the car.” Is Iwaizumi’s cold reply. 

Oikawa swallows, steps forward and takes a seat. 

It’s weird, sitting silently in Iwaizumi’s car after ten years with his daughter in the backseat, _that he didnt even know existed_ , early in the morning. He glances at his watch, and realizes he only has an hour until he’s got to be at work, and he doesn’t want to be here, and whenever he looks at Iwaizumi’s face he just wants to cry and surely they could catch up some other time?

It’s deadly silent in the car, and Oikawa tries to break it, “Where are we going?” His voice is weaker than he wants it to be, and it crackles at the edges. His throat feels hoarse. His eyes are burning. 

“Kaede needs to get to school first.” Iwaizumi explains curtly, never letting his gaze leave the road.

“I don’t _need_ to go to school.” Kaede mutters quietly from her spot in the back, fidgeting with her seatbelt. 

Iwaizumi glances at her through the rearview mirror, “And _you’re_ still in trouble for kicking adults. I’m telling your mother about this.”

Kaede whines from the back seat, grumbling, “I wanted to make sure I was right.” She insists, crossing her arms, cutely. Oikawa can’t help but smile a little, despite everything. 

“I don’t care why. We don’t kick people. Period.” Iwaizumi scolds and Oikawa thinks back to all the times Iwaizumi had punched him, threatened him and kicked him. If it were any other time he would have brought it up and teased him about it. A decade ago he would not have hesitated. But that was then and this is now. 

They pull up at the school and Iwaizumi helps her out of her car seat, sending her off on her way. She waves back. “Remember, Mom is picking you up today!” He calls to her. He watches her go into the building, lingers a moment, and then steps back into his car. 

Neither say a word for a long while, parked in silence. Oikawa has mostly composed himself by now, but he still just wants to run away at this point. He can’t even imagine what’s going on in Iwaizumi’s head. At least Oikawa had been trying to prepare himself for this inevitable moment. Hell, Iwaizumi didn’t even know he was back in the country until about a half hour ago.

Oikawa glances at the clock in the suffocating silence and then timidly cracks it again, “I need to be at work in forty minu--“ 

“What the _fuck_ happened to you?!” Iwaizumi shouts, hands clenched onto either side of the steering wheel, glaring at it, “Why the _fuck_ did you just stop talking to me? Where did you go? What did you do? What did _I_ do?” 

Oikawa swallows, feeling small, “I...”

But Iwaizumi doesn’t want explanations at the moment, “You’re an asshole you know that? An absolute piece of shit. I used to call you trash but I never actually believed you were until now. You _motherfucker_. How _dare_ you just stop talking to me like that? As if I didn’t exist anymore?”

“Iwa--“

“No. Fuck you. I don’t want to hear it.” He snaps, slamming a fist onto his steering wheel, “I don’t give a flying shit about what you want to say. You can go fuck yourself for all I care.” He hisses, leaning onto his steering wheel, glaring at the wind shield, shoulders tense. 

Oikawa remains silent. 

“One text. _One text_. That’s all I wanted. One fucking text to let me know you were ok. An e-mail! Just one word. One fucking word you _piece of shit_.”

Oikawa looks out at the elementary school. 

“Ya know, I get it. Just one `goodbye’ would have been enough for fuck’s sake! But instead I get nothing. For _years_. Fuck you. I knew you were a self centered shitpile but i never _knew_ you were _such_ a self-centered shitpile.”  

Oikawa swallows, looking down at his lap. 

“How long have you been back here? How fucking long? Have you been here all along? One fucking text. One. Fuck you. Just-Just _fuck you_. Fuck you, fuck you, _fuck you_. You’re a piece of shit. Worse than that. Worse than anything in this whole fucking world. ” 

Iwaizumi refuses to look at him.

They’re quiet for a while then, and Oikawa doesn’t realize that Iwaizumi’s teared up until he sees the other wiping at his face angrily. Until he sees how is shoulders are trembling without his control. His heart sinks at that, and he feels worse than he’s ever felt before. 

Iwaizumi Hajime should never cry. 

Iwaizumi starts again after a moment, but quieter, like a whisper, “Even...even if you wanted to break up with me that’s fine...but.” And his voice is cracking now, and Oikawa buries his own face in his hands at the sound, hunched over in his spot on the passenger seat “but I thought we’d still be _friends_.”

Oikawa takes in a shaky breath, letting it out through the gaps between his fingers, “I’m sorry.” He whispers into his hands, “I’m _so_ sorry.” Because it’s all he can say even though he knows its not enough. It will never be enough. 

Iwaizumi doesn’t say anything. They stay quiet again. The moment feels like forever. Two men in a small car, crying quietly over a decade of disconnect. But finally, Iwaizumi punches his steering wheel one last time, takes a deep breath and sits up. He puts the car into reverse and backs out of the parking space. 

“Where do you work? I’ll drop you off.” He asks in a monotone, devoid of anything. A courtesy because Iwaizumi is nice, has always been nice, can only _be_ nice. And it makes Oikawa want to burst back into tears more than the raw abuse that had been shouted at him. The abuse he wholly deserved. 

Oikawa gives him directions numbly and the two remain in silence for the rest of the trip. Oikawa steps out of the car at the curb in front of his office building. He lingers a moment, but Iwaizumi doesn’t give him another glance as he drives off. 

Oikawa watches him go, standing in the spot feeling hollow. Feeling nothing. 

He pulls out his phone and dials his boss to call in sick. His boss doesn’t argue after hearing his raw pained voice over the receiver. Oikawa then slips the phone back into his pocket and heads for the metro to go home. As he moves he falters, biting his lip. He pushes through the pain and limps forward. 

His knee is screaming. His heart is throbbing. His eyes are stinging. 

He hopes he can make it home before throwing up. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hahaahahahahah that was fun right? 
> 
> c:
> 
> see you next time


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Iwaizumi worries and worries and worries some more.

Iwaizumi can’t deny he’s disappointed when he wakes up to zero messages from Oikawa. He’s disappointed but he easily rationalizes it. Oikawa is busy. He just had his first real game. He must be exhausted. He had clearly been stressed out about it and all his mounting schoolwork. It was understandable. 

So Iwaizumi spends his Monday the same as always. He wakes up early, works out, showers and goes to his class. He sits with Daichi and Sugawara. Since learning of their shared classes he’s been hanging out with them quite often. They’re actually really cool people, and he’s excited to get to know them better. And Sugawara is an especially helpful homework buddy, to be completely honest. Although, he tends to mesh better with Daichi out of the two. 

During lunch with them he pulls out his phone to send a text to Oikawa. Just as usual. Whenever he thinks of something, or something interesting occurs, he would send it off to share. 

_Sugawara just said a hilarious joke at lunch remind me to tell it to you next time we skype._

_seriously don’t make me forget_

Sugawara looks over at him, “What’s the Oikawa update today? Any highlights?” He asks pleasantly, as it had become custom for Iwaizumi to share any humorous texts from his boyfriend abroad.

“Nah, he didn’t text me today.” Iwaizumi replies with a shrug, trying to sound nonchalant. Trying to sound like it was fine. Trying to sound like it wasn’t bothering you. Trying to sound like it wasn’t itching at the section of his brain reserved solely for worrying over Oikawa’s wellbeing, hardwired from a young age. 

Daichi blinks, “Oh. Has that ever happened before?”

Iwaizumi suddenly regrets mentioning it, “Well, no, but he’s busy. He just had his first big game remember? And he has midterms all this week I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s stressing himself out into oblivion. He even forgets to eat in that state of his.” Iwaizumi sighs out easily, perhaps a bit too eager to explain away the neglect. But honestly, it’s not _that_ weird.

Daichi snorts a little, “Sounds like Asahi.” He comments, and Sugawara smiles into his hand at the comment. Iwaizumi shrugs, mostly because he barely knows the man mentioned, other than that he had been a worthy ace.

Still, he sends another text. 

_Hey don’t stress yourself out if that’s what you’re doing. Remember to eat. You’ll be fine. Take a break._

He peaks up to find Daichi and Sugawara are talking to each other so he sends a few more messages,

_I don’t have much homework and my morning class for tomorrow got cancelled so I’d be fine skyping with you tonight if you want?_

_I can also skype tomorrow night too if that’s better._

_You’re going to be fine._

He swallows. 

He doesn’t know why he feels so sick to his stomach. He doesn’t understand the growing dread he feels. It makes no sense. Nothing had happened. He was just getting paranoid. He was just fretting and worrying too much, like Oikawa always told him. 

* * *

After a week and a missed skype date without any word from Oikawa, Iwaizumi feels himself slipping into a state of complete panic. He had never gone so long without a word from Oikawa in his entire _life_. Usually, if the other was ignoring him in order to overwork himself Iwaizumi would have to search him out physically. 

But he can’t do that anymore because Oikawa is an ocean away. He feels a bit helpless, and the worry is eating away at him. So he just keeps texting and texting. 

_Are you ok?_

_Did something happen?_

_Are you hurt?_

_Are you in the hospital?_

_What’s going on?_

_Did your phone break?_

He pulls out his email app at that, typing in Oikawa’s personal e-mail, and his new school e-mail just in case. 

_Hey Oikawa,_

_Are you ok? I’ve been messaging you all week? Did something happen? Did your phone break? We were supposed to skype last night like usual but you didn’t show up?_

_Are you just busy with midterms or something? Just text me that you’re busy or something asshole. You’re making me worried for nothing._

_-Iwaizumi_

He sends it off quickly and for the rest of the day he compulsively checks his e-mail for any sign or response. Anything from Oikawa. Anything to make the panic go away. Anything to let him know he’s alright.

He just wants to make sure he’s alright.  

“Iwaizumi!”

“Huh?” Iwaizumi looks up, from the email app, blinking up at Daichi’s concerned face. “What?”

“Suga was talking to you.” Daichi reminds with a little frown, looking at him sternly. It’s a piercing gaze and Iwaizumi tries to relax his tense body. He doesn’t really want to talk about his problem right now. He doesn’t really want to talk to anybody at all. Well, except for Oikawa. 

“Oh. Sorry, I was...distracted.” Iwaizumi mutters, rubbing the back of his neck and forcing his phone back into his pocket. He keeps his hand over his pocket, to make sure he can feel any vibration, any sign. 

“He _still_ hasn’t messaged you?” Sugawara asks with furrowed brows, abandoning the previous conversation entirely. 

“He’s busy I guess.” Iwaizumi quickly defends, instinctively. Because it’s one thing for him to be angry at Oikawa, to mercilessly mock Oikawa, to be a dick to Oikawa. It’s very different for the rest of the world to. Because the rest of the world doesn’t know Oikawa like he does. Because the rest of the world doesn’t _love_ Oikawa like he does. 

“Too busy to send a one word text message?” Sugawara asks incredulously, frowning in severe disappointment. He doesn’t look impressed and it kind of pisses Iwaizumi off. 

“We don’t know what he’s going through.” Iwaizumi mutters back, defensively, but it’s weak, because the frustration within him is real. Why _hadn’t_ Oikawa messaged him just a brief little note? Hell, he could have just sent an emoji for all he cared. _Anything_. 

“Do you think he’s alright?” Daichi wonders aloud, placing his chopstick down, “Have you tried asking his parents?” He continues after a moment of thought. 

Iwaizumi blinks at the suggestion, “...No, I haven’t.” He pauses. 

Daichi cuts in to cover his bases, “Oh, well, I don’t know if you’re comfortable with that or--“

“No, no. You’re right. I’m being an idiot. They like practically half raised me I should have called them days ago.” Iwaizumi waves off, feeling stupid. Incredibly stupid. Of course the Oikawas would know what their son was up to. If he was sick or in the hospital or what have you. Still, he feels that they would have contacted him if anything drastic like that had happen. He’d like to think so at least. They may not know they were dating but he’d known them since he was _five_. 

He slips out his phone and finds Oikawa-san’s number, dials it up and waits for the phone to ring. He suddenly feels nervous, palms sweating, making the grip on his phone tenuous at best. He wonders why. He had never been nervous around Oikawa’s family. They were practically his second family. 

“Hello?” A woman’s voice comes through the receiver. 

“Oikawa-san.” Iwaizumi greets, hoping his voice doesn’t reveal the erratic beating of his heart. What if Oikawa was seriously hurt? What if his knee was acting up? 

“Hajime! How are you? How’s college life?” Oikawa-san perks up, chattering excitedly. She sounds...fine. Not worried. So maybe everything was ok? But that didn’t make Iwaizumi feel any better. 

Still, he can’t help the slight smile Oikawa-san’s genuine caring voice, “Oh, everything’s fine. I’m doing fine.” He answers looking to the side. 

Daichi and Sugawara are watching him and smiling to themselves. He feels his face redden a little but ignores them, staying focused. Maybe he should have called them after leaving their company. But he has been so jittery and worried he wanted to know what was up immediately. 

“Oh, that’s wonderful.” She sighs, “It was so nice seeing you last weekend!” 

“It was nice seeing you too. Uh, I called because I was wondering if you had, uh, heard from Tooru?” He starts tackling the issue at hand, feeling a bit self conscious using Oikawa’s first name in front of his friends, but whatever. He can’t dwell on it at the moment. 

“Hmm? What do you mean? Are you worried about something?” Oikawa-san asks suddenly, voice glossing over with her own worry. 

The last thing Iwaizumi wants is to worry Oikawa’s parents so he quickly brushes it off, “Uh, no, I was just wondering when was the last time you spoke to him?”

Oikawa-san’s answer comes easily, “Well, we had our weekly skype call yesterday.”

The blood in Iwaizumi’s veins freeze. He blinks, “O-Oh.”

“Are you alright Hajime?” . 

“Yeah, uh, did he seem ok?” 

“Well,” She seems to pause a moment, as if to recall anything strange, “He seemed fine. He looked a bit tired but he said he had just finished his midterms. He promised me he’d catch up on his sleep now that he was done.”

“Uh, huh.” Iwaizumi forces out, tightening his grip on the phone. 

“But other than that he seemed fine.” The woman continues easily. 

“That’s good.” Iwaizumi replies weakly, swallowing.His throat feels so dry. 

“Is something the matter? Did Tooru do something?” Oikawa-san prompts, and Iwaizumi can tell she’s pursing her lips in that trademark Oikawa family pout just from the tone of her voice. It usually makes him smile. 

He doesn’t feel like smiling.  

“No, no.” Iwaizumi responds, “He’s done nothing.” _Nothing at all, actually_. 

“Are _you_ alright, Hajime?” The woman then asks, pointedly, and Iwaizumi tries to relax. He really does.

So he lies, “Everything is fine, Oikawa-san. I just thought Tooru was getting sick and I wanted another opinion, but maybe he was just tired from exams. Thanks for picking up.”

“Of course, Hajime.” She replies, and it seems she has accepted his reasoning. 

“Alright, I have to go now. Goodbye.” He clips out. 

“Call anytime! Good luck in school! Goodbye.”

Iwaizumi hangs up and he feels hollow inside. It’s a bit surreal. Because he hasn’t really digested everything yet and he kind of wants to cry and he kind of wants to scream and he wonders what the _fucking hell_ is going through his idiotic boyfriend’s mind to make him suffer like this. 

Oikawa is perfectly fine. 

He’s just ignoring him. 

For reasons Iwaizumi can’t piece together for the life of him. 

“Iwaizumi?”

“Huh?” Iwaizumi looks up from his phone which he’s holding in a vice like grip, “What?” And he sounds much more angry than he means to be. 

“Is everything alright?” Daichi asks, frowning. 

“Everything is fine.” Iwaizumi bites out the lie, picking up his tray despite eating little of it’s contents. He’s not hungry.

Sugawara looks up at him as he gets up, “You keep saying that-“

“Because everything _is_ fine.” Iwaizumi snaps, and he regrets it but he doesn’t want to talk to anyone right now. He wants to go back to his room and think. And sit. And be alone. For a bit. For a while. 

He shoves his tray at the drop off and storms out of the cafeteria. 

Daichi and Sugawara share a look. 

* * *

When Iwaizumi gets back into his dorm room he punches his pillow and then pulls out his phone and starts typing. 

_Alright shittykawa what the FUCK is going on???_

_You’re talking to your parents like everything’s fine but not me? What the hell?_

_Why are you ignoring me?_

_Text me back god damn it!_

_Just text me, you’re really pissing me off._

_It’s been a week, your midterms are done send me a fucking text you asshat._

Iwaizumi chucks his phone at his bed and sits up. His hands are clenched at his sides. Had he done something? Was he to blame? He can’t recall saying anything abnormal before the sudden silence. 

The raw anger starts to subside. It lingers, but it’s weighed down by a blossoming of sadness and fear. 

Why won’t he text me back?

He licks his lips. 

He grabs his phone again. 

_Hey._

_Did I do something?_

_Are you actually mad at me?_

He inhales sharply, rubbing at his eyes. 

_Did something happen?_

_You can tell me._

_I’m your best friend you can tell me anything._

_You should know that by now_

He lets go of his phone again, letting it drop onto his bed and wipes at his face. He wonders why he’s so emotional right now. It was just a week. Just seven little days. 

But it was so _abnormal_. Oikawa _loved_ to text, to talk, to call. Why wasn’t he saying _anything_. But he couldn’t find him and force an answer out of him. He was helpless. At least, until Oikawa came home for break but that wasmore than a month from now. Surely, he would contact him before then?

His phone vibrates and Iwaizumi jumps, scrambling for it. 

But it’s only a text from Daichi.

_Are you ok?_

Iwaizumi is this close to ignoring it before realizing how hypocritical it would be in this situation so he quickly fires off an honest response for the first time in a while. 

 _I don’t know_. 

* * *

Days turn into weeks that turn into a month and Iwaizumi never hears from Oikawa. 

Nothing.

Not a single word. 

Nothing at all. 

And Iwaizumi likes to think he knows Oikawa better than anyone. And he knows that when Oikawa hates someone, _really_ hates someone he has an amazing ability to shut them out of his life completely. To ignore them out of existence itself. He’d seen it happen numerous times. He just never imagined he’d be the victim of it. 

He refuses to believe it actually.

Because there _had_ to be a reason. Some misunderstanding. _Something_. 

Oikawa wouldn’t just cut him off like this. They were _best friends_. Their friendship was stronger than anything. Anything in this whole god damn world.

 _Why won’t he just text me_  

And one day, nearing the end of his finals, a call from his mother makes everything painfully real.

“When are you coming home for break, Hajime?” She asks simply.

“Next week.” He replies with a shrug, “After my last final.” Which he should be studying for. 

“Oh, I’m so excited to see you! It’s so unfortunate about Tooru though.” She adds with a sad wistful sigh. 

Iwaizumi tenses at the name, suddenly gripping his phone tighter, “What do you mean?” He’s desperate for any news, anything about his boyfriend lost over seas. 

“That he’s not coming home for break. I know his mother was devastated but at the same time getting an internship already is a great opportunity for him.” His mother explains, a hint of disappointment in her own voice. 

Iwaizumi swallows and can’t bring himself to respond. Something breaks inside of him. 

“You knew about it already, right?” His mother continues, a bit concerned at her son’s silence. Because how could her son _not_ know?

“Of course I did.” Iwaizumi lies and he tries his best to keep his voice from cracking. But he knows he’s not going to last very long so he quickly adds, “I’ve got to go.”

And that’s when it all becomes _very_ real. Because there was no glimmer of hope of confronting Oikawa in person. Of demanding answers. Of pulling him aside and knocking some sense into him like usual. Not now. Not until summer, now, and even then who knows.

Oikawa was shutting him out. 

And Iwaizumi suddenly feels so very alone he can’t stand it. 

He pulls up the messaging app on his phone. 

He hadn’t texted Oikawa in over a week. 

Still no responses. 

He taps on the phone, 

_So you’re not coming back?_

_Is this it?_

He wants to write more. He wants to curse him to kingdom come. He really does. But he can’t bring himself to type another letter. He feels numb. He feels cold.  

He doesn’t know why but instead he switches to Sugawara’s number. 

_Can I talk to you?_

There’s a speedy reply, as always,

_Of course. I’m in my room!_

_Daichi is here too is that ok?_

_I can kick him out if you need me to._

Iwaizumi doesn’t respond. He just lets his feet carry him there. His friends live in the next dorm over on the third floor, and the journey there feels like a lifetime. There are moments where he pauses and debates going back to his room and crawling into his bed. 

But Iwaizumi isn’t one to mope. 

When he finally reaches their door they open it after a single knock. 

“Jesus, are you alright?” Daichi asks, eyebrows shooting up. 

Iwaizumi realizes that he must look like shit. He certainly feels like it. 

“No.” He says, and the word is hissed out because he can’t trust his voice. “No, I’m not.” He shakes his head as if to convey it better but he knows his friends don’t need much convincing. 

He’s lead to the bed where he takes a seat, and already he’s holding his face in his hands and speaking through the gaps in his fingers. 

“I don’t know what to do anymore.” He breathes and he feels really pathetic. 

He can feel Sugawara’s hand on his shoulder, “What happened?”

“He’s not coming back for break.” He whispers, “I don’t think he’s ever going to come back.”

There’s a pause, “He still hasn’t talked to you?” Daichi asks, slowly. 

Iwaizumi shakes his head. He can feel Sugawara’s grip on him tighten. 

“Iwaizumi,” Sugawara begins delicately, “I’m going to tell you something and you can’t get angry alright?”

Iwaizumi says nothing. Sugawara shakes him lightly and repeats, “Alright?”

“Alright.”

“Oikawa is an asshole and he can go fuck himself.”

Iwaizumi sits up at the sudden outburst, eyes wide, because Sugawara doesn’t _know_ Oikawa, “Don-“

Sugawara interrupts him, “No. Stop defending his actions.” 

Iwaizumi closes his mouth and frowns. But he doesn’t know what to say to make it better. There’s nothing left to say. 

“You should break up with him.” Sugawara continues, quick and determined, like ripping of a bandaid. 

Iwaizumi tenses. 

“Suga...” Daichi begins, perhaps to remind him to be a bit more delicate.

“You should break up with him right now.” The gray haired man continues, unaffected.

“I can’t do that.” Iwaizumi finally speaks up, looking away, “I’m not...I’m not giving up on him like that.”

“Iwaizumi, he is millions of miles away and has cut all ties with you. Break up with him.”

“He’s my _best friend_.” Iwaizumi practically pleads. 

“Break up with him.” Sugawara repeats, “Who knows, maybe it will force him to text you back. But I don’t see this changing anytime soon, and you’ve been _suffering_ for weeks now. It’s not fair to you.”

Iwaizumi bites his lip. 

Sugawara finally seems to soften a little, “Look, I’m not saying you should break up with him so that you can immediately start dating other people or something. Or to give up your friendship. I’m just saying that this relationship is going to wear you down if it’s like this. So break up with him. And if he cares, he’ll text you back.”

Iwaizumi looks away. 

“Relationships don’t always work out the way you want them too.” Sugawara continues, squeezing his shoulder, “Sometimes they end. And you feel like shit, and so you eat a lot of chocolate and listen to a lot of music and then it doesn’t feel as bad and you move on.”

Iwaizumi doesn’t say anything. Because all he wants to say is, _but I love him_. But Iwaizumi has never been comfortable saying those kinds of words out loud, especially not to anyone who isn’t Oikawa Tooru. So he remains silent. 

But the thought that breaking up might force a response does stick with him. 

“I’d recommend blasting Ugly Heart by G.R.L.” 

“Suga, I don’t think now is the best time to figure out his break up playlist.” Daichi reminds softly. 

“It helps to let it all out.” Sugawara counters. 

“I think Iwaizumi needs time to digest.” Daichi replies back just as fast. 

“I think,” Iwaizumi interrupts, standing up from his spot in the bed, “I think I’m going to go for a walk.” He goes towards the door, and then turns back to the pair, “But, thanks for the advice...I just...I need to think.”

The pair look over at him worriedly but nod. 

Iwaizumi leaves. Leaves the building. Leaves the campus. Just leaves to go walk around the streets for a while. For a few hours. For a few forevers. 

And by the time he makes it back into his room he’s sent his last text to Oikawa Tooru. 

_Until you get your shit together, I’m breaking up with you._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugly Heart is a great song.
> 
> I was listening to Walk the Moon's album recently and realized that the song Portugal describes this fic really well? Dang. 
> 
> In other news! I wrote an Iwaoi oneshot with guardian angel Iwaizumi y'all should check it out. 
> 
> hope you liked the chapter. i drink tears for a living. see you next time!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iwaizumi isn't ready just yet.

It’s a weird time for both Oikawa and Iwaizumi. They’re on the cusp of something new while still trudging through the old. They’ve finished their last game ever of their middle school careers. They’ve lost again to Ushijima. But the tears have dried, and there’s only excitement for the next chance to crush him. 

 They have a few more weeks of class, a few more weeks with their team, with their juniors, before they leave for high school. 

It’s exciting. 

It’s terrifying. 

Iwaizumi finds some solace in the fact that Oikawa and him will still be going to the same school. It’s all that really matters. It’s what sets him at ease. And things won’t be so different, they’ll still play volleyball, they’ll still have homework, they’ll still walk home together everyday. 

They’re best friends, and that won’t change. 

And so it’s one lazy Friday afternoon, free of practice and homework that finds them lounging in Oikawa’s room. 

Iwaizumi is lying on his stomach on the floor, flipping through a sports magazine. He’s paying close attention, focusing on the shoes advertised. His sneakers are getting a bit ratty, and he feels a hole about to emerge on the left one. It would be nice to start on his new team at his new school with a new pair of shoes. 

Oikawa is sitting quietly near him. He’s got his back against the bed to keep him upright, knees drawn up to rest the thick book in his hands. It’s some new sci-fi thriller he picked up from the bookstore yesterday. Iwaizumi glances over at him and marvels at the fact he’s already well past the half way point. He’s always surprised at how fast of a reader Oikawa is. At how smart he is. At how talented he is. At how _pretty_ he is. 

Iwaizumi looks back at his magazine, dropping the train of thought. But he’s no longer all that comfortable in his position. He rolls over onto his back, but it’s no good either. He frowns and gets up, crawling over to Oikawa’s side, “Lap.” He orders. 

As if on command, Oikawa’s legs unfold, sticking straight out, without sparing a glance from his nove. He keeps reading, turning another page. Iwaizumi lays back down, using Oikawa’s lap as his pillow. He opens up his magazine again. 

Iwaizumi doesn’t know how long they remain like that in silence, but at some point, Oikawa speaks up, “Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi lets out a grunt to acknowledge the comment, but doesn’t take his eyes off the description he’s reading. 

“We’re going to be high schoolers.” 

Iwaizumi flicks his gaze up at Oikawa, noticing he’s holding his book closed, his finger saving his place. “Yeah.” He murmurs back, massaging the glossy pages with his thumb. 

Oikawa dog ears his book and then places it above him on his bed, “We’re so _old_.” He whines, stretching is arms up.

Iwaizumi snorts, “We’re not.”

Oikawa’s lips twist up into a teasing smile, “ _You’re_ so old.” He corrects, licking his lips.

Iwaizumi swats Oikawa’s thigh, making the brunet squeal, “I’m only a month older than you.” He reminds. 

Oikawa giggles lightly, “So old.” He sighs dramatically.  

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes and is about to go back to his magazine when Oikawa speaks up again, “What do you think it’ll be like in high school?”

Iwaizumi blinks and considers it a moment, “Exactly the same.” He decides with a shrug before adding, “But I’ll be taller.”

Oikawa laughs, “You’re _still_ mad I’m an inch taller than you now?”

Iwaizumi reddens slightly, turning to lie on his side so he’s looking towards Oikawa’s feet, “You’re only half an inch taller than me. And it’s a fluke, you trashcan.” He growls.

“How does it feel to be shorter than a trashcan?” Oikawa hums. 

“I will punch you.” Iwaizumi threatens, turning his head to shoot a glare. Oikawa is still grinning though. Iwaizumi decides to ignore him, flipping back to his magazine. 

Oikawa can’t stay quiet for long and Iwaizumi can tell that the next topic he wants to broach is a difficult one. The legs underneath his head quiver every once in a while. And after a moment, Oikawa is playing with his hair, running his long fingers through the short strands. It must be something big pressing him if he’s this fidgety. 

“What?” Iwaizumi asks, putting the magazine down and looking back over at him. 

“What?” Oikawa repeats, playing dumb. 

Iwaizumi swats away the hand playing in his hair, earning himself a huff. “Tell me.”

Oikawa sighs, letting his hands fall limp at his sides in defeat, “I don’t know.”

Iwaizumi raises an eyebrow and Oikawa pouts his lips, “Ok fine.” He murmurs, “I got some more confession letters.”

“So?” Iwaizumi asks, “You get those every day.” He reminds, and it doesn’t bother him. It doesn’t.

“But now they keep stating how we’ll be in high school together.” Oikawa continues, picking at his rug, “It feels more...real or something.”

Iwaizumi looks up at him, squinting his eyes, “You liked one of them didn’t you?”

Oikawa reddens, “I did _not_!” 

Iwaizumi grins a little, “Does Tooru have a crush?”

Oikawa blooms bright red and shoves Iwaizumi off his lap, “That’s NOT it!”

Iwaizumi laughs, sitting up to face his best friend, “So what’s the problem?”

Oikawa won’t look at him, “Well, in high school...it’ll be different?” He murmurs, and Iwaizumi blinks because he’s not really following. “Like...I guess once we’re in high school I’ll accept a confession...”

Iwaizumi doesn’t know why his stomach churns at the thought. “Ok?” He swallows. 

Oikawa draws his knees up to his chest, playing with the fabric of his pants, “But...what if...what if she wants to kiss or something?” He finally hisses out, peaking his eyes over his knees to look at his best friend.. 

Iwaizumi forces out a chuckle even though the thought makes him feel sick for some reason, “I wish the girls could see their cool senpai like he is now.”

Oikawa sends him a glare, “Shut up!” 

Iwaizumi smiles, “Don’t worry about it. It’ll be fine.” He kind of also wants to add _you don’t have to kiss anyone_. But he decides not to. At least for the moment. 

“I don’t want to mess up!” Oikawa continues and there’s a bit more animation in his eyes and it feels as if he’s finally reached the crescendo of his point, “So I think I should practice!”

Iwaizumi furrows his brows, “Ok?” 

And then Oikawa finally looks at him, “So will you help me practice?”

Iwaizumi blinks, “Wait, what?”

Oikawa moves a bit closer, “Iwa-chan we’re _best friends._ ”

“Unfortunately.” Iwaizumi mutters, pulling away a bit. 

“And we practice volleyball all the time.” Oikawa continues, edging closer and closer. Iwaizumi stretches his neck away.

“Well, yeah...” He agrees slowly. 

“So, we should practice kissing together too.” Oikawa finishes, looking into his eyes incredibly seriously. 

Iwaizumi turns bright red, “Huh!?”

Oikawa leans even closer, “It’s not weird!” He insists, as if he’s trying to convince himself more than Iwaizumi. 

Iwaizumi’s heart is suddenly beating so fast and he decides it’s due to fear, “What are you talking about, dumbass!? I’m not kissing you!”

“ _Please_ , Iwa-chan!” Oikawa practically pleads. “I don’t want to make a fool of myself!”

“You make a fool of yourself every day!” Iwaizumi counters, getting a whine out of Oikawa. 

“Iwa-chan!”

“No! I don’t want to kiss your ugly face.”

“We both know my face is _not_ ugly.”

“Whatever, I _still_ don’t want to kiss your pretty face.”

Oikawa huffs and pulls back. And Iwaizumi prays that he’s done with this nonsense. Because his heart is hammering and his face is red and his palms are sweaty. And he’s never really thought about kissing Oikawa before and now _he can’t stop_ thinking about it and that’s not ok. That can’t be ok.  

“Aren’t you even a little curious?” Oikawa murmurs, frowning.

“Well, yeah, but...” Iwaizumi mutters, scratching the back of his neck and looking away. 

“Think of how cool we would be if we knew what we were doing even as first years in high school!” Oikawa continues, waving his arms for added effect. 

Iwaizumi doesn’t say anything, he just wipes his hands on his shorts. He can feel Oikawa watching him and he wishes he wasn’t. He kind of wants to go home right now. But he also doesn’t. 

Because he kind of _wants_ to kiss Oikawa even though he doesn’t care about any future reputation he may have. 

“Kiss someone else.” Iwaizumi finally hisses out willing the color out of his cheeks

“I can’t kiss anyone except you.” Oikawa reasons, and Iwaizumi feels his heart jump. “You’re my _best_ _friend_.”

Iwaizumi refuses to look at him. 

“It’ll be a secret! No one will know! Everyone will just think we’re cool.” Oikawa continues, leaning over again. 

Iwaizumi bites at his lip and he hates how weak he is with Oikawa. How Oikawa can get him to do anything. How he can manipulate him into all his schemes. How Iwaizumi will always follow him no matter what. 

 Oikawa looks at him pleadingly, “ _Hajime._ ”

Iwaizumi grits his teeth and looks away, “Ug, fine.” He snaps, crossing his arms and hoping his face isn’t as red as it feels. 

Oikawa grins brightly at his victory and then...does nothing. 

Iwaizumi waits a moment before looking back at him, finding Oikawa fidgeting with his hair and looking a bit sheepish, “Well?”

“Well!” Oikawa repeats, and he’s tugging on one of his own strands of hair, a nervous habit of his. “Ok. Let’s, uh, try.”

“Oh my God you’re hopeless. This was _your_ idea.” Iwaizumi huffs, scooching a bit closer so he’s seated directly in front of the brunet. 

Oikawa nibbles his lip, “Well, I’ve never done this before!” He snaps defensively, frowning a bit. “I don’t know how to start...”

Iwaizumi frowns as well, drawing his eyebrows together, “Ok.” He thinks a moment, “Let’s just do it at the same time, I guess.”

Oikawa brightens a little, “Ok.” He agrees, “On three?”

“Sure.”

“One.”

“Two.”

“Three.”

They both lean forward quickly, smashing their noses together, bumping foreheads and slightly brushing lips. They pull back, each with their own pained noises. Oikawa rubs his forehead, Iwaizumi massages his nose. They’re both bright red. 

“That was awful.” Oikawa whines, pouting.

“It’s cause we didn’t do it right, idiot!” Iwaizumi glowers. “You can’t do anything right.”

“You’re the brute here, it was _your_ fault.” Oikawa defends, looking to the side.

Iwaizumi glares at him, “Do you want my help or not?”

Oikawa stays quiet, but keeps his pout on his face. 

Iwaizumi sighs and settles back down in front of him, “Alright ok, only one of us moves this time.” He decides. 

“Ok.” Oikawa agrees, pulling at a strand from his bangs that falls a bit too far down his face. He needs a hair cut, Iwaizumi thinks.  

“So, I’ll stay here and you uh...come forward and do it.” Iwaizumi explains, trying not to sound as terrified as he is.

“Me?” Oikawa croaks, wide eyed. .

“Well, _you’re_ the one who wants to practice.” Iwaizumi reasons, “What? You want me to do it?”

“I can do it!” Oikawa replies a little too quickly. 

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, but settles back down, perched on his folded knees. He can’t help the way he grips the ends of his shorts tightly in his fists. He’s a bit nervous. A lot nervous. He waits. 

Oikawa hesitates but then he seems resolved, and leans over. Iwaizumi fights the instinctive urge to lean back, remaining still. He stares, eyes wide, at Oikawa’s incoming face, at his large brown eyes, at his clear skin, at his puckered lips.

He squeezes his eyes shut. 

He feels Oikawa’s lips against his and the first thing he thinks is that they’re so soft, and the next thing he thinks is that his own lips are really chapped and probably rough and gross and he feels a bit awful. Because this is kind of nice but it must feel terrible for Oikawa to be kissing him. 

Oikawa pulls away, completely red. And Iwaizumi sees he’s looking at him for feedback, the same way he looks at him after a toss. _How can I make this better for you?_

Iwaizumi swallows, “It was n-nice.”  

Oikawa’s eyes visibly brighten. 

Iwaizumi wonders if Oikawa can hear his heartbeat because it’s thumping terribly loudly in his ears.

Iwaizumi realizes they’ve just been staring at each other without saying anything for a few seconds now so he looks away. 

“Your turn.”

Iwaizumi looks up with a start, “Huh?”

“Well, it wouldn’t be fair otherwise.” Oikawa explains with a wave before using the same hand to scratch at his head, “And plus, you don’t get good by doing it once. We have to practice!” He continues looking anywhere but Iwaizumi’s eyes.

Iwaizumi chews on the inside of his cheek, “...Ok.”

Oikawa looks back over and settles himself, and he looks like he’s bracing for impact. Iwaizumi would have laughed if he wasn’t all nerves. 

He leans over, tilts his head a little, and presses his lips against Oikawa. They’re wet and soft andhe’s not sure what to do. His hands come up to grip onto Oikawa’s upper arms. Tightly. 

And then he pulls back. 

“This is weird.” He mumbles, self consciously. Still gripping onto him.  

“In the movies they open their mouths.” Oikawa breathes, and his face is still so close that it tickles his face and makes Iwaizumi wrinkle his nose slightly. 

“That’s gross.” 

Oikawa frowns, “Bugs are gross but I still hold them when you ask me to.”

Iwaizumi stares at him, “What are you talking about? The last time you held a bug you were ten and you screamed the whole time!” He snaps, offended. 

Oikawa pouts, “Iwa-chaaaaan.” He whines. 

Iwaizumi grits his teeth, “You’re the _worst_.” He decides and Oikawa smiles a little because he knows that means he’s won. “How does that even work.” Iwaizumi continues, letting go in order to cross his arms, “Do we just kiss and then open our mouths? And then what? This is so stupid.”

“We won’t know until we try.” Oikawa reminds, scratching at his arm idly. 

Iwaizumi grimaces, “You owe me for life.” He decides.

Oikawa nods, accepting the terms, “Just once. And then we can stop ok?”

Iwaizumi huffs, but turns to face Oikawa. He’s gripping his shorts again. Oikawa mirrors him, and without prompting leans in. Iwaizumi feels really sweaty, and his grip on his shorts slips with how wet his palms are. 

Oikawa’s lips are as soft as he remembers, and his teeth clench at the contact. But then he can feel Oikawa’s mouth opening against him and he knows he needs to open his mouth too but it’s weird. It’s so weird. Oikawa makes a noise, and Iwaizumi doesn’t so much as hear it but feel it against his own lips and so he opens up. 

And it’s weird. 

And he doesn’t know what to do.

And he’s uncomfortable.

And he wants to go home. 

And then Oikawa’s tongue glides across his lips and he pulls back in shock, body shuddering at the feeling. 

Oikawa blinks, and both of them are red. 

“Iwa-chan?”

“I’m going home.” He mutters, shoving his shirt down and practically running out of the room, out of the house and across the street. 

* * *

They don’t see each other for the rest of the weekend. They don’t exchange a word. Iwaizumi spends his days locked in his bedroom claiming a stomach ache. He replays the memory, feeling weird, and gross, and sweaty and _weird_. And he doesn’t like it. But he doesn’t hate it either. Which makes it worse. 

But by Sunday he’s decided that he should just forget the whole thing. Because he misses Oikawa, and it’s not like it was his fault. He was just curious. And he can’t blame him for that. He’s not going to let something so stupid come between their forever long friendship.

That Monday Oikawa looks at him nervously when they find each other in the locker room before practice. They lock gazes and Iwaizumi can see the question clear in those brown eyes. 

_Are you actually mad at me?_

Iwaizumi snorts, and sends him a half smile. Oikawa’s shoulders relax immediately and he can’t help the grin that blossoms on his face. 

Yeah, Iwaizumi thinks, nothing so stupid could ever ruin their friendship. 

“Let me practice my tosses ok?” Oikawa calls, and Iwaizumi nods, following after him. There’s a spring in Oikawa’s step, an extra bounce, and Iwaizumi realizes he was probably sulking the whole weekend. He claps him on the shoulder as they walk out. 

They don’t bring up the kissing practice again. They won’t mention it for years, in fact. Things slip back to normal fairly easily and it’s like nothing had ever happened. An that friday they find themselves back in Oikawa’s room. 

“Hey, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa calls, looking up from his stack of DVD’s. He’s on the quest for a good movie or documentary to put on to pass the time. Iwaizumi is sitting on his floor, back against his bed, waiting. 

“Yeah?” He responds, not bothering to look back at him.  

“What do you think it’ll be like in high school?” Oikawa wonders. 

“We already talked about this. The same.” Iwaizumi sighs, flicking some dust from his knee. 

“Well, what about after high school?” Oikawa presses. 

“We’ll go to college.” Iwaizumi shrugs, shifting in his seat. 

“And after that?”

“We’ll get jobs, I guess.”

“And then what?”

“And then I don’t know. It’s like forever from now stop worrying about it.” Iwaizumi snaps, getting annoyed. How the hell was he supposed to know these things?

Oikawa seems to have selected his film for the day and crawls back over. He’s frowning, “Iwa-chan, what do you wanna be when you grow up?”

Iwaizumi shrugs again, leaning his head back to rest against the bed, “I don’t know. I guess I want to get married and be a dad.” Oikawa snorts, and Iwaizumi turns to glare at him, “What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing!” Oikawa quickly defends, raising his hands up, “It’s just...Kids are awful.”

“No they’re not.” Iwaizumi defends. 

“Yes they are! Look at Tobio-chan!” Oikawa reasons, looking disgusted.

“Oh my god, Kageyama is not _that_ bad.”

“Imagine raising three Tobio-chans.” Oikawa murmurs with a sickening shudder, “Ug. No but kids are gross. They smell and they’re dirty and they’re stupid. I hate them.”

“You cried when you held your baby nephew.” Iwaizumi points out. 

“THAT’S DIFFERENT!” Oikawa snaps, pursing his lips and trying to hide his blush. Iwaizumi raises an eyebrow and can’t help the slight smile on his face. 

“Well, I think it’d be nice. To have a kid.” He shrugs again, feeling a bit self conscious. He can feel Oikawa’s gaze on him and he starts fidgeting with the rug. It’s not that weird is it? 

“Iwa-chan would make a good dad.” Oikawa decides after a moment and Iwaizumi looks back at him eyebrows drawn up in surprise. It’s rare to get a complement from his best friend. “Oh but you would dress your kids _terribly_.” Oikawa adds, holding a hand to his face at the horrific realization, “They’ll be bullied mercilessly.”

“Hey!” Iwaizumi snaps, slapping him playfully. Oikawa lets out an exaggerated pained noise but the smile doesn’t leave his face. 

“So, what would you name your kid?” Oikawa asks, glancing back over. 

Iwaizumi blinks, “...I don’t know. I’ve never really thought about it. We’re fourteen!”

“Mmm. It’s always good to think five steps ahead, Iwa-chan. Don’t you ever listen to coach?”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, “I’m not even married yet.”

“Don’t worry Iwa-chan. Some lady is bound to like your ugly face eventua--OW IWA-CHAN THAT ACTUALLY HURT!” He whines, rubbing his arm, “And I was about to offer to be your best man.” He adds with a huff. 

“You’re not allowed ten feet from my wedding.” Iwaizumi snaps, crossing his arms. 

“So mean.” Oikawa sighs, leaning back a little and finally pressing play on the television. Iwaizumi sees he’s selected the movie Signs, which they’ve seen before but Oikawa still adores it. He guesses the conversation has been dropped. 

That is, until a few minutes later when the opening credits wrap up and Oikawa murmurs, “Kaede’s a pretty name.” 

Iwaizumi looks over at him confused but Oikawa won’t meet his gaze, focused on the screen. Still he explains softly, “You know, for a little girl.”

Iwaizumi doesn’t respond. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhhh i got so many comments for last chapter i cried!!!!
> 
> thank you guys for all your kind words! heres another chapter! And its cute this time see not everything is sad
> 
> seriously tho thank you so much y'all are too nice to me
> 
> see you next chapter


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> why cant I just tell you everything?

_Did you see him yet?_

_stop texting me_

_I am trying to be helpful, since our parting was a less than positive one._

_i never want to talk to you again_

_But you have not blocked my number?_

_go away_

_I have a feeling you believe this to be all my fault?_

_IT IS ALL YOUR FAULT_

_It may be partially my fault, but I believe it is also your fault_

_go fuck yourself_

_I have to get back to practice. I will contact you again when I can._

He wonders why he still hasn’t blocked Ushijima’s number from his phone. 

* * *

“You really need to see a doctor.”

Oikawa looks up from his computer, seeing Michimiya hanging over his cubicle wall with a concerned frown. 

Oikawa blinks, “Hmm?”

“Do you think we can’t notice your limp when you get up to refill your coffee?” The woman begins, raising a brow. 

Oikawa laughs lightly, “Is it that obvious?” He sighs out, leaning back in his chair. 

“What even happened?” Michimiya asks, moving to lean against the open side of Oikawa’s work spot. She’s giving him a critical look. 

Oikawa would rather not share the fact that a 5 year old had kicked him hard enough to reignite his old sports injury. He’s pretty sure he would lose all respect if he admitted that. 

Instead he tells a half-truth, “It’s an old injury from volleyball that I seemed to have aggravated.” He confesses, and he hopes he sounds sincere enough that she doesn’t press. 

She takes the bait, “Oh that’s terrible! Sports injuries are the worse, they stick with you.” And Oikawa remembers that she played volleyball in high school too and he smiles a bit, “You know, I know a great doctor who specializes in this kind of stuff.”

Oikawa straightens up, “You do?”

“Yep, super nice, super knowledgeable. Dr. Ryuugazaki. I can hook you up with his number.” She offers, already slipping her phone out of her pocket to scroll through her contacts. Oikawa grabs at his phone too. 

He had been putting off a doctor visit mostly because he really didn’t know where to go, and the fact he was hoping he could walk it off. But after a week it was clear the pain was here to stay. And it would only get worse. 

“You ready?” She asks and after he gives a nod she recites the number and the address of the clinic. “Now make an appointment and get it checked out ok? Seriously, don’t you know how to take care of yourself by now?” She teases and Oikawa lets out a light chuckle and waves her off. It feels likes something his friends would have said back in high school. 

It’s amazing how little can change. 

It’s amazing how _much_ can change 

She gives him another encouraging smile before trotting off to her own desk, back to her own work. 

Oikawa looks at the number in his phone and makes a mental note to call the office as soon as he clocks out. 

* * *

Oikawa steps inside the clinic, trying not to visibly wince. It seems his knee had only gotten worse with each passing day, and so he hopes the doctor can prescribe him some painkillers. He checks in and the receptionist hands him a form to fill out. He’s used to this, and fills it out easily before taking a seat.

He sits there and waits for about a half hour, reading through the magazines and playing dumb apps on his phone. The office is quite packed around him with people filing in and out quite regularly. Still, he’s beginning to get impatient. 

When he’s about to get up to complain, despite the pain that would surge from his knee, his name is called. He plasters on a smile and follows a nurse to another waiting room. 

“Someone will come see you soon so take a seat for a now.” She repeats mechanically, ticking something off her clipboard. Before Oikawa is even able to try some nice flirty small talk she disappears and the door shuts with a clack. They must be really busy today. 

Oikawa huffs and hops onto the examination bed. He sits there, legs dangling and pokes at his painful knee, hissing at even the slightest touches. He decides to roll up his pant leg to reveal the swollen joint, reddened up from the abuse. He frowns at it. 

It surely doesn’t look good. 

Definitely not as bad as the initial injury, however. 

Oikawa has to wait another twenty minutes before being visited. He spends the time poking his knee masochistically and playing candy crush. He’s incredibly bored and a part of him wants to wander the halls and another part of him reminds him he can barely walk. He feels a whine building up in the back of his throat, but there’s no one here to whine at. 

The door opens. 

Oikawa sits up. 

“Hello, the doctor is a bit backlogged at the moment so I’ll be checking you first.” The nurse that steps in apologizes and Oikawa grips the examination bed tightly, breath catching in his throat, “My name is Iwaiz-“

The nurse falls silent when he finally looks up. 

Oikawa stares at Iwaizumi and Iwaizumi stares back at him. And the silence is deafening and Oikawa has _no idea what to do_. 

“No.” Iwaizumi says, eloquently. “No.” His hands fall to his sides limply. 

Oikawa kind of wants to laugh. 

He kind of wants to cry. 

And then Iwaizumi leaves the room entirely and Oikawa lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He sits there, trying to wrap his head around the fact that Iwaizumi is apparently a nurse now, and he had somehow managed to find the clinic he works in out of all the clinics possible in Tokyo.

The door opens again and it reveals Iwaizumi, looking angry. 

Oikawa looks up at him. 

“There are no other nurses available at the moment to see you.” Iwaizumi states strictly, looking at the clipboard, instead of his face, “So I’m looking you over.”

Oikawa’s throat is very dry and he can’t seem to make words so he just kind of nods slightly. He wonders if Iwaizumi can see the fear in his brown eyes. He wonders if Iwaizumi knows how sorry he is. He wonders if Iwaizumi knows that he hasn’t changed in ten years.

“What’s the problem?” Iwaizumi continues, coming over, trying to put on a neutral face. He’s incredibly tense, uncomfortable, upset. Oikawa can’t blame him. 

“I’m sorry.” Is not what Oikawa means to come tumbling out of his mouth, but it’s the phrase that does. Iwaizumi seems to stiffen and his neutral mask falls away immediately. 

“How the fuck did you find me?” He demands, hissing the comment out lest he be heard by his fellow nurses. 

“I didn’t know!” Oikawa defends, and it almost sounds like a cry, high-pitched and wavering, “I honestly had no idea you worked here! My co-worker just gave me the number for the clinic.”

Iwaizumi doesn’t look convinced but he drops it, taking a breath and trying again, “What’s the problem?”

Oikawa licks his dry lips, “Uh, my knee.” He answers, pointing at the swollen thing. 

Iwaizumi frowns and leans in, examining the injury. He takes the leg in his hands and Oikawa can’t help the shiver that runs down his body. If Iwaizumi notices he doesn’t comment. He’s focusing. He turns his leg gently and Oikawa lets out a pained hiss. 

“What the fuck did you do to yourself?” Iwaizumi demands roughly, and Oikawa wants to smile because if anything it feels like a question for his high school self. 

“I didn’t do anything!” He defends quickly, and then his ears redden a little as he answers, “It’s from when your uh, daughter kicked me.” 

Iwaizumi blinks, sitting up to look at him in the face for the first time, “Are you serious?”

Oikawa turns away, pursing his lips and feeling his face redden. This is humiliating. 

He looks back when Iwaizumi says nothing to find the other trying to suppress a smile. Oikawa doesn’t want to admit how his heart jumps at the sight. 

“Oh my god are you _smiling_?” Oikawa asks incredulously, “at your patient’s _pain_.”

And Iwaizumi lets out a little laugh, turning a bit to the side, “I’m so proud of her.” He whispers to himself. 

“Are you serious? Iwa-ch--!” Oikawa falters then and bites his lip. Iwaizumi quiets down. They stand there in awkward silence. And after a moment Iwaizumi goes back to examining his knee. 

He pokes at it a few more times in certain places and Oikawa can’t help the little pained noises he lets out _because it really fucking hurts_. Iwaizumi frowns, and he rolls Oikawa’s pants further up his thigh. It makes Oikawa a bit nervous, and he swallows. Iwaizumi’s hands on his thighs does things to him, reminds him of so many other times where they’d run across the pale smooth skin. Playful touches. _Loving_ touches. He’d rather not think about it. Iwaizumi doesn’t say anything.

 After a moment Iwaizumi speaks up, voice trained, “I don’t think you’ve broken or fractured anything, but we’ll give you an x-ray just in case. After that the doctor should be able to check in on you and decide anything.” He stands up, “I’ll go get a wheelchair and wheel you over. Don’t move.”

He leaves, and Oikawa notices how hard his heart is beating, and that he’s been gripping the edge of the examination bed tight enough to rip the paper he’s sitting on. He lets out a sigh, cupping his face in his hands. How could this have happened? Was this a second chance? Was this fate? Was this a joke?

Iwaizumi returns with a wheelchair as promised and Oikawa climbs in and feels very silly. Because he _can_ walk. It’s just excruciatingly painful. And it’s just weird that Iwaizumi is pushing him around in one. Like they hadn’t only re-met a week and a half ago. Like he hadn’t fucked up a decade ago. 

Everything is weird. 

Oikawa wants to speak up again but he’s being traded off to another nurse. Iwaizumi is speaking to her and then leaves without so much as a glance at Oikawa. The brunet bites his lip, but listens attentively to the new nurse’s instructions.

After his x-rays he’s wheeled back into his room. He’s happy to get out of the wheelchair. He picks at the paper he’s seated on as he waits for the doctor to arrive with the results. It takes another twenty minutes, and Oikawa wonders if he’ll have to spend the rest of his days in this waiting room, wallowing in misery. 

The door opens and it’s Iwaizumi again, “Nothing’s broken like I thought.” He starts explaining without pre-amble, “You do have more little tears in your tendon than I thought though, meaning you aren’t taking care of yourself like you should be.”

Oikawa scratches the back of his neck but says nothing, “The doctor will prescribe you some pain medication. Don’t do any physical activity for the next few weeks and ice it as often as you can. Oh, do you need a brace?”

“I still have my old one in a box somewhere.” Oikawa responds with a wave. Iwaizumi nods and there’s something in his eyes that Oikawa can’t really decipher.

“Do you have anymore questions?” Iwaizumi asks mechanically, glancing through his clipboard to make sure he hasn’t forgotten anything. 

There are so many questions on Oikawa’s mind, and he blurts out the first thing, “So you’re married?”

Iwaizumi visibly tenses, “Questions about your knee.” He clarifies, and the grip on his pen is incredibly tight.

Oikawa shakes his head, swallowing. Iwaizumi seems to hesitate where he’s standing, like he has something on the tip of his tongue. Something he needs to say. Something he _has_ to say.

But he says nothing. 

He turns to go and Oikawa can’t help his desperate call, “Wait!”

Iwaizumi pauses at the door. 

“I..” Oikawa bites his lip, “Can’t we meet up for lunch? Somewhere? Just to...to talk?” He tries, and it sounds so pathetic coming from him. He feels pathetic.  He _is_ pathetic.

Iwaizumi’s grip on the knob tightens. He doesn’t turn back to face him, “Don’t do this to me, Oikawa.” He hisses. 

“I! I...I don’t know what to _do_.” Oikawa pleads, leaning forward. 

Iwaizumi still won’t turn around.

“How do I fix this? Please, Iwaizumi, I--“

“I still don’t even know _why_ you cut me off!” Iwaizumi snaps, whirling around, “Do you think you can ignore my existence for ten years and then come back like everything’s ok?”

“I don’t--“

“You can’t just press pause when something happens and think you can come back to it like nothing. I’m my own person, Oikawa. I have a life too. I have my own life.”

“I know--“

“The world does not revolve around you!” Iwaizumi growls.

“I _know--“_

“I don’t think you know _shit_ , Oikawa.” 

And now Oikawa is getting angry himself, frustration spilling out, “Will you just let me talk!?”

Iwaizumi whirls around then, “Oh, isn’t it awful? When someone won’t respond to you?”

Oikawa shuts his mouth and grips the table again. 

Iwaizumi is so angry he’s shaking and it looks like he has a lot more to say but he...deflates. Oikawa blinks. 

“Look,” Iwaizumi sighs, and it’s like all his anger leaves him in that one breath, replaced only with exhaustion, “I...I didn’t even know you were back in Japan. I’d accepted never seeing you again.” He starts to confess, “But then you just appear, like a ghost. But I’ve moved on Oikawa. I have responsibilities. Things can’t be like they were then. Just...Just leave me alone.”

“I don’t...I’m not...” Oikawa bites his lip, trying to find the right words that normally flow so easily for him, “I just want to be your friend again.” He begs, looking up at him. 

Iwaizumi isn’t looking at him, “Why the _fuck_ did you stop talking to me?” He whispers.

Oikawa licks his dry lips, “I...” But he can’t. He can’t say it. Not here, not now. 

Iwaizumi grits his teeth and turns back toward the door. Oikawa rests his face in his hands. He hates himself. 

“I can’t be your friend.” Iwaizumi starts, “If you can’t even tell me that.” 

Oikawa inhales sharply, letting it out through his nose. He’s surprised Iwaizumi is even still in the room. Is even still giving him another chance to speak up. So many chances. He’s been given so many chances.

Oikawa takes none of them. 

Iwaizumi grabs the knob on the door. Before he’s completely out the door he adds in a soft voice, “Make sure you take the medication and stay off that knee as much as possible.”

And then he’s gone. 

And Oikawa wonders if it’s healthy to cry this often. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the long wait! i was busy doing last minute cosplay stuff and then going to otakon
> 
> anyways! we're back and with some more sads l m a o
> 
> all of your comments are so nice and encouraging!!! aaaaah
> 
> thank you all for reading!
> 
> you can yell at me at findingschmomo.tumblr.com
> 
> see you next time! c:


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> filling in the gaps of a tough adulthood

Iwaizumi meets her during his last year of college. It’s his most stressful year, filled with coffee, and study guides, and all nighters. His medical examination lies on the horizon and the only person he really sees in that time is Sugawara who is furiously studying with him.

He meets her in one of his throwaway classes his Senior spring, a class he took to lighten his work load in preparation for the big exam. He normally sits by himself, near the back of the lecture hall. But one morning she stumbles in, late, and jumps into the seat next to him to cause less of a scene.

Iwaizumi doesn’t pair her much mind, but she turns to him and whispers pleadingly, “Hey could you hold this for a second?” She’s a bit red, out of breath, and frazzled.

He blinks and takes her cup of coffee, as she settles herself into her seat. She pulls out the desk from it’s slot, rifles through her bag for her notebook, pulls it out and lets out a muted groan.

“Wrong notebook?” He whispers back, a bit amused.

“It’s been a rough morning.” She sighs, defeated. She takes the notebook anyway, turning to the last page to take notes. “Thanks.” She adds, taking her drink back. And then she starts paying attention.

Iwaizumi isn’t paying attention.

The girl next to him has nice auburn hair that falls to her shoulders in waves. She’s wearing a loose casual shirt, and jeans. She nibbles at her pen as she takes notes, and he can tell it must be a nervous habit. There’s a plethora of tiny indents on the instrument.

She has nice brown eyes.

She’s very pretty.

Iwaizumi looks away and sits up.

Halfway through class she puts her hair up in a messy ponytail. Iwaizumi doesn’t know why he takes note of it.

He tries to scribble some actual notes instead.

* * *

Their class meets every other day, and the next time he sees her she’s already seated, in what must be her usual spot near the front. He feels a bit disappointed but tries to shrug it off.

And then she turns toward him and waves with a smile. He blinks, and waves back. She smiles a bit bigger and then turns back to the front.

After class she comes up to him, “So I never got your name?”

“Oh.” Iwaizumi tries, “Iwaizumi. Uh, Iwaizumi Hajime.”

“I’m Hamasaki Kotori.” She greets dipping her head a little, “Are you a literature major?”

He shakes his head, taking his bag and walking out of the class with her, “No, I’m actually pre-med.”

“Oh wow. No wonder you look so tired.” She laughs and Iwaizumi flushes a bit, because does he really look that bad? “Good luck.”

“Thanks.” He sighs, readjusting the strap on his shoulder, “How about you?”

“This is just a class I took for fun.” She admits, “I’m a math major.”

“That’s cool.”

She smiles, and Iwaizumi can’t quite look at her, “Well, I’ll see you around Iwaizumi-kun!”

“Uh, yeah. See you.”

* * *

“This is good.” Sugawara comments, with a nod. “This is great.”

Iwaizumi frowns, regretting mentioning the entire episode, “She’s just a friend.”

“A friend you clearly like.” Daichi reminds, with a little smile.

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, and dips his head back down to his notes, “I don’t even like girls.” He tries, lamely, gripping his notebook a bit too tightly.

“Iwaizumi.” Sugawara begins, in his stern lecture voice, “You have only ever liked one person in your whole god damn life how do you know  _anything_  about yourself.”

Iwaizumi groans behind the pages, “She’s just a friend.” He repeats, almost to himself.

“Whatever you say, Iwaizumi.” Daichi allows, clapping him on the shoulder supportively. Iwaizumi tries his best to shrug him off. He frowns.

* * *

She becomes more than a friend almost a year later, when she asks him out one day. She’s a bit flushed but she tries to make it as casual as possible, looking intently at her coffee.

Iwaizumi almost chokes on his bagel, but recovers quickly enough to respond with a nervous  _ok_.

They date for a year and it goes great. Iwaizumi realizes then how much he’s missed dating someone. Of holding someone so dear. Of actually loving someone again. And he kind of clings to the idea of it. To the concept of it.

But it’s not perfect. Of course it isn’t. They fight on occasion. They’re both rather busy, Iwaizumi working through medical school, Hamasaki working to get her PhD.

It’s during their second year of dating that things get rockier, because that’s the year Iwaizumi rediscovers Oikawa Tooru.

It happens by accident.

He is flipping through the channels on his television, stopping on a volleyball match. He hadn’t been following the sport in recent years just from how busy he’d become. But it fills him with a sense of nostalgia to watch the players shuffling around the court.

It’s some important national match from overseas, but he pays that no mind.

During the second se the U.S. setter is switched out, and he recognizes him before the announcer reads out his name.

He still styles his hair the same way. He’s still tall, with the longest of legs. He’s still as handsome as ever.

Iwaizumi’s eyes are glued to the screen.

“Oikawa Tooru is being subbed in. He’s a talented new recruit for the U.S. team hailing from the Land of the Rising Sun! We’ll see how he fares in his first big game!”

“Tall for a Japanese guy, ain’t he?” The other broadcaster chuckles.

Iwaizumi doesn’t pay him any mind. Instead, he watches as Oikawa pauses to give the camera a charming smile before growing serious. It’s his turn to serve and Iwaizumi can’t remember the last time he had seen one of Oikawa’s signature jump serves.

It’s more powerful than he remembered.

He watches the whole game.

He writes down the team’s name.

He’s shaking a bit.

_Why do I still miss him?_

“Hajime?”

Iwaizumi jumps, shutting the TV off and spinning around, “Huh?”

“Are you alright?” Hamasaki murmurs, “I just came back with some groceries and...what were you watching?”

“I…” And Iwaizumi feels incredibly dirty all of a sudden. “I was watching a volleyball match. I used to play when I was younger. I..got a bit nostalgic.”

“Oh.” She blinks, “Yeah, you mentioned that before...Are you sure you’re ok?”

“Yeah.” He stands up to help her put away the stuff, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

* * *

“This isn’t healthy.” Daichi states, in a disappointed tone.

“You should at least tell her.” Sugawara continues.

“I know.” Iwaizumi murmurs over his drink.

Daichi and Sugawara frown at each other.

* * *

Iwaizumi watches every game that season. He can’t help it. Anytime he has to miss a match because of schooling or his part time job he records the match for later.

He finds himself incredibly bored the games Oikawa sits out of.

But when he plays, Iwaizumi can never take his eyes off the screen.

Sometimes Hamasaki will watch with him but he feels awful when she does. He feels sick. He feels like a liar. A dirty cheating liar.

There’s a distance growing between them. A sense of resentment. And he knows it’s his fault but he can’t bring himself to do anything about it.

They get into a huge fight one day, a sudden explosion.

Iwaizumi thinks they should end it.

It would be the right thing to do. Because none of this is fair to Hamasaki. She doesn’t deserve this. She deserves someone’s entire love and he’s realized now he can’t give that. He doesn’t think he can give anyone all the love they truly deserve.

It feels like Oikawa stole a huge chunk of it when he left him.

But plans change because only a few days after their big fight does Iwaizumi get a call from a sobbing Hamasaki. And at first he thinks it’s her breaking up with him, but then he realizes that she sounds  _terrified_.

And when she tells him through her tears that she’s pregnant Iwaizumi feels paralyzed.

He doesn’t say anything and her voice through the receiver comes out in a panic, “Hajime? Hajime, are you there? Please, Hajime?”

He takes a shaky breath, “I’m coming over.”

He finds her sitting on the floor of her bathroom looking miserable. He sits down next to her, sides pressed against each other.

They don’t talk for a long while.

Iwaizumi breaks it, “When I was in high school, I started dating my best friend in the whole world.”

She squints at him confused. She wipes at the snot on her nose.  

“And then he left without a word.” He sighs, “And it’s been years but it still haunts me and i think it always will.”

She frowns, taking in a shaky breath.

He’s about to go on. To confess everything but she interrupts him.

“Hajime.” She begins, carefully, “I was going to break up with you.” She begins and it still stings him to hear it, despite everything, “And hope to still be friends but now…” She takes a shaky breath, pulling her hair a little, “This could ruin my life.”

Iwaizumi doesn’t say anything.

“My parents would disown me.” She continues, “And I can’t do this by myself.”

Iwaizumi starts piecing together what she wants, and he feels clammy just thinking about this. But he doesn’t want to offer other solutions because it’s not his place to do so. And he knows that.

“Hajime.”

Iwaizumi looks over at her, “Maybe, this is a sign for us to try again?” And she sounds like she’s trying to convince herself more than him. “To really try?” He swallows.

“Koto.”

“Yeah?” And it sounds so hollow, and it hurts Iwaizumi because she’s his friend. One of his better friends. One of his best friends.

“I think…” He falls silent, squeezing his hands into fists. He relaxes them, “I think we should think about this more.” He finally decides, standing up. He offers her a hand and helps her up from the floor, “But whatever happens, I’m not going anywhere ok?”

She smiles a little and Iwaizumi has always loved her smile.

* * *

Their relationship changes after that. It becomes more business like, professional. It becomes more about the future than the present. Figuring things out. What was best for Iwaizumi, what was best for Hamasaki, what was best for them, what was best for the child.

And that relationship, over the next few weeks morphs back into something much more familiar. To friendship, and it’s nice.

That’s when they decide to get married.

Because married and divorced with children looks much better than never wed at all.

And it’s a bit fun, to plan a wedding. It’s not as stressful as movies make it seem because Iwaizumi and Hamasaki want it to be painless and efficient but nice. Because it has to seem real.

And it’s probably one of the less stressful periods of Iwaizumi’s life, remarkably enough.

“Pick Daichi.” Hamasaki offers, “He’s the handsomest of your friends.”

Iwaizumi snorts, “That’s a terrible reason to pick a best man: because the bride thinks he’s attractive.”

She giggles a little, “Well who else is there?”

“Sugawara.” Iwaizumi begins, “then there’s Matsukawa and Hanamaki.”

“Who?” She frowns, squinting at the names on his list.

“Friends of mine from high school,” He says, “I go to the bar with them once in a while, remember?”

She nods after a moment, “Pick Daichi.” She reiterates, “If those are your choices.”

Iwaizumi nibbles his lip because there’s someone else he would love to invite. But it’d be pointless. He wouldn’t respond.

But it feels wrong, to not have him there.

“Alright.” He agrees after a moment.

* * *

The wedding comes before they know it, mostly because they’re on a strict timeline.

It’s fun. It’s a chance for Iwaizumi to see all his friends and family again. He realizes how busy he’s been with school and how much he’s missed. And it’s a bit sad. But he tries not to dwell on it.

“You know, I’m pretty offended.” Hanamaki pats his shoulder, a drink in his other hand. He’s already a bit tipsy. Leaning on him heavily.

Iwaizumi looks at him with an amused eye, raising his brow, “Yeah?”

“That you didn’t pick me to be your best man.” He finishes with a joking smile.

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, “Like I would trust you with a speech.”

Matsukawa grins lazily, appearing on his other side. He swings an arm around his shoulder, “We  _do_  have a lot of dirt on you.” He agrees.

Iwaizumi sighs, sinking a little under their combined weight, doomed to be pestered by them for life. Hanamaki snickers, but then quiets down, “Still, I always thought it’d be Oikawa.” He admits. Iwaizumi tenses a little and he wonders if they can tell, “You know what he’s been up to lately?”

“Feels like he fell off the face of the earth.” Matsukawa comments, taking another swig from his glass.

“He’s busy playing for his team right now, in the U.S.” Iwaizumi explains and the pair nod because of course Iwaizumi would know what Oikawa was  up to.

Why wouldn’t he?

Iwaizumi swallows.

“I should go find my wife.” He manages, untangling himself from the pair. They grin and give him a wink as he departs.

* * *

The initial plan is to get divorced a year after the baby is born.

But plans change because neither of them really expected falling so hard for their daughter, so hard that they decided to really truly try again.

Because Kaede is beautiful and lovely and wonderful and all Hajime wants in this world is for her to be happy.

And he used to think he couldn’t love anything completely again but he was  _wrong_ , so very  _wrong_.

But that can’t make up for everything. Because he still can’t help watching volleyball games no matter how much it hurts Hamasaki to see. Because he can’t seem to let go of his feelings. Because yes, he hadn’t spoken to him in seven years but he had known him for eighteen and it’s not that easy.

Because he can’t seem to let him.

And by the time Kaede is two Iwaizumi is helping Hamasaki find a home for herself. Helping her move out. Coordinating Kaede time.

It’s for the best.

And through it all he doesn’t miss a single match.

But even that comes to an end when Kaede is around two. And Iwaizumi is in the midst of another volleyball game starring the now great star, Oikawa Tooru.

There’s something off about Oikawa in this game. He can tell immediately as the man steps onto the court.

The brunet has dark circles under his eyes. He looks dazed, out of it. Iwaizumi knows the look. It means the man hasn’t been sleeping.

Iwaizumi knows exactly why. The idiot’s overworking himself. Why didn’t his team stop him? Didn’t they know? Didn’t they care?

Kaede smacks his leg, and he picks her up off the ground to place her in his lap. She’s gotten into the mood of slapping literally anything. Also biting. Lots of biting.

Kaede smacks his chest now so he looks at her, “Kaede, not right now.” She pays him no mind, pulling at his shirt, giggling a little. He softens, leaning back on the sofa, “What’s up with you today?” He asks with a smile.

Shed giggles some more, a little drool dribbling down her chin. He rolls his eyes despite his smile, wiping her face with a nearby tissue. “You’re silly.”

She smacks him again, and then tightens her grip on his shirt sleeve, “You know, you pack a punch for someone so tiny.” He comments, a bit proudly, “Must be my genes” He laughs.

She stares at him with a wide smile.

“It’s Oikawa’s turn to serve.” The announcer comments and Iwaizumi’s eyes lock back on the screen.

Kaede slaps his thigh and he shushes her, “Just a minute.”

Kaede slaps him again and he grows a warning tone, “Kaede.” He takes her off his lap, seating her beside him on the couch.

Oikawa takes a deep breath and he starts his run, serving the ball with ease. It lands powerfully between two receivers. A service ace.

Iwaizumi smiles despite everything.

The ball returns to Oikawa, and he gets ready to do it again. Something is off though, Iwaizumi can tell. Oikawa’s eyes are guarded.

He’s in pain.

Iwaizumi frowns.

Kaede is crawling back onto his lap but he puts her back down next to him instead, without taking his eyes off the screen.

She gurgles unhappily, “Daaaad.” She whines. And Kaede doesn’t like to talk all that often, which means she really wants his attention.

Oikawa runs his next serve, slamming it down perfectly. But there’s a commotion in the crowd because the moment Oikawa lands he crumples to the ground.

“You idiot.” Iwaizumi hisses under his breath, hands clenched into fists, “You  _fucking_  idiot.”

There are people helping him up but Iwaizumi isn’t even watching anymore, he has his hands massaging his face. Because all he can think about is how history repeats itself and how idiots never learn and how if only he had been there and if--

Kaede is nudging him, and he takes a deep breath. He looks over at her to find her close to tears and he immediately shuts off the TV, “Hey.” He murmurs, “Hey, no crying.” He soothes picking her up. “No more crying.”

And it’s almost like he’s talking to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> blarg this chapter is meh but its necessary  
> to see what iwa chan's been up to!
> 
> and yeah the wife is an oc sorry for ocs
> 
> thank you for reading!!! NEXT CHAPTER IS GONNA BE GREAT I PROMISE! 
> 
> see you then


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Would it be weird if I told you I wanted to kiss you again?

Iwaizumi doesn’t realize his feelings for Oikawa until early into his second year of high school. Until then he’d just assumed his beating heart, his giddy smile and his long looks were normal. Oikawa is his best friend. His oldest friend. This is how they’ve always been and how they’ll always be. 

He never gave it anymore thought than that. Never thought he needed to, until one fateful night during their first training camp of the year.

He and the other second years are sharing a room and, against coaches orders, are staying up late talking. 

And that’s fine and all, because they’re a close knit group since meeting last year. Although, there were more of them last year, they’ve dwindled down to a solid four. And he’s fine with that. Because Matsukawa and Hanamaki are good people, despite their trouble making tendencies. 

And Oikawa is always there beside him, so nothing else really matters. 

They’re all huddled up in the small room, lying on their futons. The futons are made up in a sort of four square configuration, because nothing else will fit in the room. It forces them to lie side by side in pairs facing each other. But no one makes a comment about it.

Iwaizumi is getting sleepy, lying on his stomach with his arms folded over his pillow. He’s leaning heavily on Oikawa beside him. He’s starting to miss most of the conversation, and so he doesn’t notice exactly when it starts becoming about him. 

“-he’s old he needs his rest.” He hears Oikawa explain, “Soon we’ll have to send him to a retirement home. It can’t be helped.” He exhales a sad wistful sigh. 

Iwaizumi sits up, shooting his best friend a glare. Hanamaki snickers into his hand, flashing a grin.

“Glad you could join us again, Iwaizumi.” Matsukawa comments with a lazy, dastardly smile. 

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, “All of you can go to hell.”

“That’s so rude, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa chastises, “ _You’re_ the one falling asleep. Are you saying we’re boring?”

Iwaizumi snorts, “We have more grueling practice in the morning.” He explains, “We should sleep.”

“You’re such a mom, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa sighs with a sad shake of his head. Hanamaki grins a bit and Matsukawa nods sagely at the comment. Iwaizumi wants to punch all of them. In the face. 

“Shut up.” He bites back, a little more attentive now, “What were you guys even talking about anyway?”

“Girls.” Hanamaki answers with a shrug, flicking some lint off the pillow he’s resting on, “Hey, Iwaizumi, do you have a crush on anyone right now?”

Iwaizumi blinks at the question and considers it with a pensive frown. He thinks back to all the girls he’s met in high school, to everyone he’s befriended and spoken to. He thinks for a while, but no one comes up, “...No, I don’t think so.” He answers, finally. 

“You could actually see the smoke coming out of his ears as he thought hard on that one.” Hanamaki points out and Matsukawa gives another nod in agreement. 

“It’s not Iwa-chan’s fault his brain is so small. Don’t be so mean.” Oikawa defends with a teasing smile. Iwaizumi kicks him in the side, earning a squawk. 

“And how have you never had a crush on someone?” Hanamaki continues with a raised brow, “Hasn’t there ever been someone that’s made your heart beat all crazy? And your face get all red? Someone you couldn’t get out of your head?”

Iwaizumi frowns because the only thing he can think of is Oikawa and that doesn’t really count, “No...I can’t think of anyone.”

“Iwa-chan is a very boring man.” Oikawa tries to explain, “I have to be charming for the both of us.”

“Oikawa, I _will_ punch you. For real this time.” Iwaizumi threatens, glaring at his best friend who flinches instinctively. But he drops the threat immediately, looking back over at the other two second years quizically, “Why? Do you guys have crushes?” 

“I did once.” Hanamaki says sadly, looking off into the distance dramatically, “She dropped her pencil, and I gave it back to her and we locked eyes and it was love. But then she transferred to another school.” He sighs, eyes glossy.

“Thats bullshit.” Iwaizumi mutters dryly. 

Hanamaki looks wounded, “I’m still suffering from heartbreak over here. Even though its been ten years.”

Matsukawa pats him on the back, “It’s alright, Maki, time heals all wounds.” 

Hanamaki places a hand over Matsukawa’s, and in his best deadpan responds, “Matsukawa you are the kindest man I’ve ever met. I appreciate it.”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes again. Oikawa looks a bit nervous, biting his lip and raising a brow, “You guys are so weird.”

Matsukawa and Hanamaki share a look, “Is it possible to be so unaware?” The latter says with a shake of his head. 

“It’s kind of sad, to be honest.” Matsukawa agrees, and his look at Iwaizumi and Oikawa could only be classified as pitying.

Iwaizumi frowns deeply, eyebrows pushed together, “The hell are you talking about?”

“You’re calling _us_ weird?” Hanamaki questions instead of answering, “Have you _seen_ yourselves? Maybe we’re just picking up habits to fit in.” He gives an exaggerated frown. 

Matsukawa nods very seriously. 

“Huh?” Iwaizumi asks, blinking.

“Look at yourselves.” Hanamaki states and Oikawa and Iwaizumi turn to each other. They share a brief exchange through their eyes:

_The hell is he talking about?_  

_...I don’t really know either, Iwa-chan._

“You’ve tangled your legs together.” Matsukawa points out with a sigh, and he sounds a touch exasperated. 

Oikawa and Iwaizumi turn their heads around to confirm. Iwaizumi does have his foot tucked so his ankle wraps around Oikawa’s, legs brushing against each other. He doesn’t really recall doing that, but he doesn’t see the big deal either. 

He’s used to using Oikawa as his pillow, and Oikawa is used to the same with him. They’ve spent their lives lounging on top of each other. 

“So…?” Oikawa asks, looking back over. Because it’s not that weird. At all. Is it?

“Oh my god.” Hanamaki shakes his head, “Now it’s just getting gross.”

Iwaizumi reddens besides himself, “It is not.”

“We’re senpais now. You need to tone down the PDA to not scar the children.” Matsukawa backs up Hanamaki with a nod. 

“Does my close bond with Iwa-chan, built over years of trust bother you so?” Oikawa teases in a dramatic fashion. It’s maybe a tad defensive, but only Iwaizumi could probably pick up on the tightness of his best friend’s voice. Oikawa suddenly tucks an arm around Iwaizumi’s side, tugging him close so he’s pressed tightly against him.

Iwaizumi feels his heart beat a little faster and he pulls away immediately, “Shut up, Shittykawa.” He stammers, “Like I have that with you.” 

Oikawa pouts but releases him, “Iwa-chan are you breaking up with me? In front of them?” He cries out, continuing his little act. 

Hanamaki covers his mouth to hide his laugh. 

Iwaizumi glares at Oikawa and normally he’d play along with the dumb joke but...but he feels weird. And he’s wondering why his heart is beating so much at the the antics Oikawa pulls literally constantly. It’s not like anything is different. Did his heart always beat so fast? Did he just never noticed?

And he keeps thinking about Hanamaki’s idea of what a crush is. 

He pulls his covers up, “I don’t know why I hang out with any of you.” He glowers, “I’m sleeping.”

“Party pooper.” Hanamaki sighs, but it seems they’re all tired because Iwaizumi hears them shuffling into their own futons moments later.

He lies there for a while, a bit angry, a bit confused, and he jumps when he feels a hand nudge his shoulder. He turns his head to see Oikawa looking at him with a little frown. A real frown. Not an act. 

_Are you actually mad at me?_

Iwaizumi lets out a little sigh, turning around completely. He takes his hand and flicks Oikawa’s forehead, earning him a surprised gasp and glare. Oikawa massages the spot but flashes a tiny smile on his face. 

And Iwaizumi feels very warm. Because he always does whenever he sees Oikawa smile and it’s only now that he’s starting to wonder if that’s normal. He bites his lip and turns again so he’s lying on his back. 

“Night, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa murmurs quietly, and his fingers squeeze his shoulder before releasing him completely and slipping back to his own person. 

“Night.”

That night he dreams of their middle school kiss, a memory he had half forgotten over the years. And when he wakes up it doesn’t leave him. It doesn’t leave him for weeks. 

* * *

“Iwa-chan.” Oikawa sighs out exaggeratedly, “Are you going to tell me why you’re so grumpy lately?”

Iwaizumi blinks up from the homework he’s working on at Oikawa’s desk. Oikawa had already finished their assignment because the ass is a faster reader than him. He’s now lying on his bed, tossing a volleyball idly in the air. Probably bored and in search of entertainment.

“The hell are you spouting out now, Oikawa?” Iwaizumi snaps back. 

Oikawa catches his ball, frowning, “See. You’re so grouchy. What’s wrong? Are you overworking your little brain again?”

Iwaizumi glares at him and goes back to his homework, “You got a lot a nerve talking about overworking.” He shoots back, perhaps a bit too mean spiritedly. He hears Oikawa whine but pays him no mind. That is, until he feels Oikawa’s hands on his shoulders. They squeeze him, and he feels the weight of Oikawa’s chin resting on his head. 

“Tell meeeee.” Oikawa pleads, in his high pitched sigh, squeezing his shoulder again. His long fingers dig into the muscles there, massaging them idly. 

Iwaizumi looks up at him, sees his pretty clear skin, sees his pretty brown eyes looking down at him worriedly, see his pretty brown hair flicked to the side. Just sees how _pretty_ Oikawa is. And he wonders if it’s normal to find your best friend so incredibly handsome all the time. And he wonders why his eyes crawl down to look at Oikawa’s lips. And he wonders if they’re as soft as he remembers them being. 

“Remember when we kissed?” He blurts out, because he’s shit at talking and there is something about Oikawa’s gaze that makes him relax. Still the minute he says it he looks away. 

Oikawa blinks, “What?” And the hands on his shoulders freeze.

Iwaizumi feels a bit self-conscious, ducking his head down back to his work, “Don’t pretend you don’t remember.” He mutters through his teeth. 

Oikawa’s hands slip off his shoulders entire, and Iwaizumi feels a bit cold from their absence. He peeks over to see Oikawa sliding into the chair beside him. He sits on it backwards with his legs on either side, and his arms resting heavily on the back of the chair

“Of course, I remember.” The brunet mumbles, pushing his bangs back with his hand, “I still feel kinda bad about it.” He confesses, pursing his lips into a frown. His fingers dig into his hair a little. 

Iwaizumi stares at him, “You do?”

“Well yeah!” Oikawa snaps, a bit red, “You like, ran off and didn’t talk to me for days! I thought...I don’t know I thought you wouldn’t be my friend anymore.”

Iwaizumi hits him on the head with his notebook and Oikawa cries out, cradling himself, “Don’t be stupid.” Iwaizumi says, “Like something like that could ruin our friendship.”

“Aww, Iwa-chan really does care.” Oikawa teases with a little smile, peaking up at him through his bangs. 

“Yeah.” Iwaizumi says, maybe a bit too seriously, “Yeah, I guess I do.”

Oikawa looks at him but then he looks away quickly. He’s still red and then he starts fidgeting with his chair, “Why do you bring it up?”

“I don’t know.” Iwaizumi shrugs, “It’s been on my mind lately.”

“Kids are stupid.” Oikawa explains, drumming his fingers on the wood of the chair. 

“Are they?” Iwaizumi questions, looking over at him. 

Oikawa doesn’t say anything. He grips the back of the chair tightly.

“Would it be weird,” Iwaizumi tries, and he tightens his grip on his pencil, “Would it be weird if I told you I wanted to kiss you again?”

There’s a long pause, and Iwaizumi feels his face heating up worse than he’s ever felt, and he suddenly regrets a lot things. Everything, to be exact. 

“No.” Oikawa murmurs quietly, finally, and Iwaizumi looks up at him with wide eyes. He finds Oikawa pulling at the strands in his hair nervously, face red too. 

“No?” Iwaizumi repeats, and he breathes it out in shock. 

Oikawa smiles a little, “No,” He repeats as well, and there’s a teasing tone at the end of it, “I know I’m irresistible.” Iwaizumi fights the urge to slap him again, because he’s a bit grateful. Because the teasing makes it less awkward, more normal. 

“Well?” Oikawa presses, and he seems to be getting more confident, leaning a bit closer, “Don’t you want to see how much I’ve improved?”

And Iwaizumi feels his heart beating so hard, and his hands are sweaty and he must be bright red. But Iwaizumi isn’t one to back down from a challenge, so he leans forward. And Oikawa leans forward too and he can see the nervousness in Oikawa’s brown eyes, despite his bravado. 

And then he’s kissing him and Oikawa’s lips are _softer_. 

He’s not prepared for Oikawa’s hands on his face, pulling him closer, digging into his hair. He gasps a little and Oikawa presses further, pulls him closer, kisses him deeper. Iwaizumi finds his hands slipping up to grip Oikawa’s shoulders for purchase, because he’s losing it. 

They pull apart, breathing heavily. And Iwaizumi is still trying to process things but Oikawa is already kissing him again and it’s all he can do to keep up with him. 

He feels Oikawa’s hands slip down, cupping his face and they’re tugging him. He rises up obediently and Oikawa is pulling him away from the desk, away from the obstacles. All without breaking apart for more than a few seconds to breath. 

Iwaizumi finally finds himself pressed against Oikawa’s door, Oikawa clinging to him. He has his hands gripping onto Oikawa’s back, bunching up the fabric tightly. Oikawa is still cupping his face, long fingers pressing into his short coarse hair. 

He pulls back, panting and there is something in Oikawa’s eyes, _relief_. Iwaizumi stares at him, dumbfounded, and licks his swollen lips. 

“Iwa-chan.” Oikawa breathes like a prayer, and the air tickles Iwaizumi’s slicked up lips. The sound of it makes him tug Oikawa closer, hands digging into his back, pulling him in for another kiss. 

In hindsight it’s very messy. Iwaizumi hasn’t kissed anyone since Oikawa the first time. And Oikawa may act like a casanova but he hasn’t had all that much more practice either. But neither really care at the moment, because all that matters _is_ the moment. 

Iwaizumi is absolutely certain they would have continued on forever, until they simply couldn’t breathe anymore, if Oikawa’s mother hadn’t interrupted them with her voice. 

“Tooru!” 

Oikawa pulls away as if shocked, looking a bit dazed, “Y-Yeah?” He calls, out of breath, eyes glassy, neck craned. Iwaizumi leans back against the door, winded. But his fingers still dig into Oikawa’s shirt, like a lifeline

“Is Hajime staying for dinner?” She asks, her voice carrying from downstairs. Oikawa glances down at Iwaizumi, swallows a little and takes in another breath. 

“Yeah! Is that ok?” He responds, albeit a bit shakily. 

“Of course it is. Come down in half an hour!”

“O-Ok!” 

And then they’re left alone again. 

“Oikawa.” Iwaizumi finally says, standing up a little straighter. Oikawa takes a step back to give him a bit of personal space. 

“Yeah?” He responds, and Iwaizumi realizes the other is starting to tower over him. Oikawa is pulling at his hair again. Iwaizumi wishes he’d get rid of the silly habit. 

But Iwaizumi isn’t sure where he’s going with this. Because there’s a lot he wants to say but nothing he can vocalize. Instead, he just stares at Oikawa and decides, “You’re getting too tall.”

Oikawa blinks, and the tension in his shoulder dissipates as he starts laughing. Iwaizumi snickers too, watching Oikawa laugh the stress away and wipe at his eyes. He comes forward, pulling Iwaizumi into a hug, “What would I do without my Iwa-chan.” He murmurs between giggles, grinning so brightly. 

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes but can’t help the wide smile on his face, “You’d probably be dead by now.” He admits wrapping his arms around his setter. 

Oikawa hums, “You know, I’ve wanted to kiss you for forever.” Oikawa admits softly, squeezing Iwaizumi tighter and nuzzling his face into the crook of his neck.

Iwaizumi frowns, eyebrows furrowing, “Really? Why?” He blurts out. 

Oikawa pulls away to stare at him incredulously, “What do you mean _why_?” 

Iwaizumi suddenly feels very self-conscious, flicking his gaze away from Oikawa’s concerned face. Because, at lest to him, it’s very obvious why Iwaizumi would want to kiss Oikawa. The opposite doesn’t hold as true. 

As if to prove a point Oikawa kisses him on the cheek, and Iwaizumi glowers. But he can feel Oikawa’s grin on his skin and it makes him all warm inside. Oikawa grows a bit bolder and starts peppering his entire face with kisses, his nose, his cheeks, his forehead, his chin, even his eyes when he squeezes them closed, “Iwa-chan is very kissable.” He explains, as Iwaizumi tries to push him away weakly. 

“Shut up.” He mutters, red. 

Oikawa is grinning so brightly. It’s blinding. He’s blinding.

“Iwa-chan, you do know what you’ve done now.” Oikawa says seriously, with a serious face. 

Iwaizumi scrunches his brow, “The hell are you talking about?”

“Now that you let me kiss you once.” Oikawa explains easily, “I won’t be able to stop.”

Iwaizumi is bright red and he doesn’t understand how Oikawa is just able to _say these things_. 

“That’s ok, right?” Oikawa asks after a moment, looking at him carefully. 

Iwaizumi kicks him, “Of course, dumbass.” And as Oikawa bends down to cradles his shin with a whine, Iwaizumi tugs him in for another kiss. 

Oikawa is giggling, and it’s absurd how much it makes Iwaizumi happy. 

Too absurd. In fact. 

Because maybe Oikawa would have died without his worrying over him, but Iwaizumi’s certain his life would have been downright miserable without Oikawa’s smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey-o! here's some long due happiness I hope you like it!
> 
> a note-- i went back and fixed up chapter four (mainly Ushijima's texts because they were terrible and bothering me) 
> 
> also! I move back into my dorm room this friday, and then i have RA training, leading orientation and finally school starting so I'm about to get incredibly busy. 
> 
> So updates might not happen for a while :c
> 
> (That's why I wanted to leave y'all on a happy note)
> 
> see you soon!


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a fun reunion

Iwaizumi doesn’t think anything of it when he gets the text from an old friend one monday afternoon.

_yo!!!! you in this friday?_

And so he immediately types out his response,

_yeah, i’ll be there._

He switches over to his phone app, hitting the top contact and pressing the cell to his ear. It rings a few times before being answered. 

“Hajime?”

“Hey, Koto.” He replies with a smile, “I wanted to make sure that you could have Kaede this weekend?”

There’s a hum on the other line, “It is my turn isn’t it?” and he can hear a certain mischievous tone flit through the receiver, “Why do you want to be so sure? Hmm?”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, “It’s the monthly get-pestered-in-a-bar-by-my-high-school-friends-day this friday.” He reminds simply, leaning against the wall by his kitchen. He can see Kaede eating her after school snack at the table. She has her eyes glued into one of her new books that one of her friends gave her. 

Hamasaki laughs in his ear, “You mean, Hajime-gets-drunk-despite-himself-and-regrets-it-in-the-morning night?”

 Iwaizumi huffs a bit, turning away so Kaede doesn’t notice him watching, “Well?”

“Don’t worry, I already promised Kaede we’d go to the aquarium. She’s very adamant about petting the sharks.”

“They let kids pet sharks?” Iwaizumi repeats, tightening his grip on the phone. He looks back over at Kaede and sees she hasn’t stirred, other than to flip a page with her tiny hands. 

She chuckles again, “Oh right, I wasn’t supposed to tell you that.”

“Koto--“ He begins, tense.

“You worry yourself silly sometimes, Hajime.” Hamasaki sighs, and there’s a bit of a sad tone in her voice. A knowing, sad tone. It makes him pause. He frowns. “Anyway, have fun ok?” She continues, a bit forced. 

“I’ll try.” Iwaizumi replies honestly, and it feels a bit hollow when he hangs up. He lets out a sigh. It’ll be good for him, seeing his friends again after the mess his life had become with Oikawa’s reappearance. 

The thought of him makes his skin crawl. He rubs his face, leaning heavily on the wall. He needs to figure out what to do with Oikawa. Because he can’t leave it as is. Because he _misses_ him. He’s missed him so God damn much. 

But he deserves an explanation. And he refuses to give in until he gets one. Oikawa can’t weasel out of every consequence. 

He’s putting his foot down. 

“Dad?”

Iwaizumi looks over, hands falling back to his side, “Yeah?”

Kaede squints at him, “Why are you sad?”

“I’m not sad.” Iwaizumi replies, perhaps a bit too quickly. He strides over to sit beside her and quickly deflects, “What are you reading?”

* * *

Oikawa gets a call from an unknown number one monday evening, and he’s tempted to ignore it. But, despite his better judgement, he answers the phone tentatively, “Hello?”

“He lives.” Sings a voice from the other line. 

Oikawa frowns, eyebrows scrunching forward, “Excuse me?”

“Back from the dead, and he doesn’t even give his best friends a call.” Comes another, deeper voice, and it’s like there are two people fighting for ownership of the communication device. 

Oikawa blinks, and a smile starts to grow on his face as he realizes the identities of the strangers, “Hanamaki? Matsukawa?” He breathes, gripping the phone a bit tighter, “Is that you?”

“Nice to know you haven’t forgotten the little people.” Hanamaki teases, and Oikawa can feel the smile in his words even after all these years. It makes his heart ache. 

Oikawa sits down on his bed, grinning wide, “How are you guys? What have you been up to? How’d you get this number?” He starts earnestly. 

“Our favorite son sent a mass-email to the old team about your return and copied in your new phone number.” Matsukawa explains easily, “Makki still forwards his old e-mails to his new one so we were able to catch it.”

“I’m sorry I haven’t reached out.” Oikawa murmurs sincerely, fingers twisting the sheets beside his thigh. He cringes a little as he says it.  

“Eh, we get it. Life gets in the way.” Hanamaki brushes off, and Oikawa kinda wants to cry. Because its so unexpected. If only it was always this simple, “I mean Mattsun and I didn’t start talkin’ again til after college to be honest.” He adds with a little sigh tugging the end of his words.

“Anyway,” Matsukawa cuts in, “You up for a reunion?”

Oikawa licks his lips, fingers squeezing the fabric beneath him tightly, “Y-yeah. Yeah! Where? When?”

“It’s this local bar Mattsun and I found. Real nice. We’ll text you the address. You free this friday?”

Oikawa nods eagerly, and then realizes they can’t see the motion, “Pretty sure I can pencil you guys in.” He smirks a little, feeling a bit more confident, a bit more at home. He can practically _feel_ their eyes roll and its nice. He bites his lip. 

He hangs up after a few more teasing exchanges and stares at his phone, smiling wide. Because, at least he could rebuild this, slowly but surely. 

He thinks about Iwaizumi. 

He lies down. 

* * *

“Sorry, I’m late!” Iwaizumi calls a bit frazzled, stepping into the bar and taking off his jacket. He hadn’t even been able to go home to change. Things had been hectic at the clinic, more so then usual, and he’d lost track of time completely. 

Hanamaki waves at him from their usual booth, and it’s then that Iwaizumi sees Oikawa’s back, facing Matsukawa and Hanamaki. The blood running through his veins turns icy. His eyes grow wide. Matsukawa _winks_ at him. 

Oikawa turns around, eyes wide, sees him, and then quickly looks down. Like a frightened animal.  

Iwaizumi debates running away. 

He takes a deep breath and walks over to them. 

“Look who’s returned from the grave,” Hanamaki states happily, motioning to Oikawa who smiles sheepishly at the attention. He refuses to make eye contact.

Iwaizumi snorts, trying to act casual. He stands there a moment, realizing the only open space is _beside_ Oikawa. He swallows, and then sits down, careful to keep space between them. Oikawa doesn’t try anything thankfully. In fact, he doesn’t make a move to even say anything to him. 

Hanamaki raises a brow at the non-exchange, “Huh.”

“Huh?” Iwaizumi repeats, waving for a waitress. He needs a drink and he needs one now. He doesn’t think he’s ever needed a drink more than right now. 

“Nothin’.” Hanamaki answers, leaning back in his seat, “I was just...expecting more.” He frowns. 

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, “Stop conspiring.” Matsukawa snickers into his hand at the comment.

Oikawa sits up a little, “We already re-met.” He murmurs with a soft, sad smile, “You’re a bit late.”

Hanamaki frowns deeper, squinting at the pair suspiciously. “He thought he’d be able to play hero.” Matsukawa explains patting the sour man’s shoulder. 

Hanamaki gives him a side glance with a raised brow, “Except it was _your_ idea.” He reminds.

Oikawa smiles at them, but Iwaizumi can see how pained it is. How it crinkles his eyes and makes him squint. How he grits his teeth every so slightly. He tries not to think about it. 

They still haven’t spoken to each other. Or looked at each other. And the atmosphere is incredibly tense.

“Well,” Hanamaki begins again, awkwardly, “I need to piss. And there’s something in the air so maybe you two should figure that out before we all catch up and have fun, k?”

Matsukawa nods sagely, and the pair step out without another word.

Oikawa deflates then, leaning back on his side of the booth. Iwaizumi turns toward him.

“Please don’t yell at me.” Oikawa whispers before Iwaizumi even opens his mouth. He raises his hands up, “I didn’t know you would be here.” He’s already defending, his tone defeated, “They didn’t mention you, and...I just...I didn’t know you would be here. I’m sorry.” 

Something tugs at Iwaizumi’s heart. But he refuses to let it get to him. Where the fuck is his drink?

He decides not to say anything then. Oikawa wilts in the awful silence.

He rests his head on the table, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m _sorry.”_ Oikawa spills out, biting his lip, “I don’t know what to do or what to say and I want to tell you.” He continues his sudden vague confession, voice low and full of cracks. “I wanted to tell you the minute it happened. But I _couldn’t_. I couldn’t then, and every day it gets harder.”

The waitress appears and places Iwaizumi’s drink on the table. Iwaizumi takes a sip. He takes another. He takes a big gulp and looks at the glass for a long moment before finally speaking, “You cheated on me.”

Oikawa exhales, a long suffering sound. His hands fist where they rest on the table, finger nails biting into the skin of his palms, “Yeah.” He hisses.

“That’s what I figured.” Iwaizumi mutters, tightening his grip on his glass. Because it _still_ stings. After all these years, it still stings. 

Oikawa looks at him and Iwaizumi sees how glassy his eyes are.

“It’s worse though.” Oikawa continues, and his voice is wobbly, and Iwaizumi is terrified he’ll breakdown here like he did in that cafe. “It’s so much _worse_.”

Iwaizumi squints at him. 

“I’m sorry.” Oikawa pleads, “I’m so sorry.”

Iwaizumi stares at him, “Spit it out.” It sounds too harsh. Like a sneer. 

Oikawa takes in a breath and then he stares hard at the stained wooden table. He bites his lip and speaks so quietly he might have just mouthed the words. But Iwaizumi hears them loud and clear. In fact they reverberate within his ears. “It was with Ushijima.”

There had been a lot of scenarios Iwaizumi had run through his head to explain Oikawa’s sudden loss in his life. He’d fabricated so many people that could have stolen his heart, so many gorgeous men and women.

He had never _ever_ given Ushijima Wakatoshi a thought. 

Everything is very cold. 

Everything is very numb.

Without thinking he starts downing his drink. 

Oikawa touches him for the first time, a hand on his arm, to stop him from finishing his drink in one big swallow. His eyes flash with concern, wet and big. 

“Fuck off.” Iwaizumi hisses, swatting his hand away roughly and Oikawa lets go. He finishes his drink. 

Iwaizumi takes a deep breath. 

“How?” He growls, glaring at him, putting the glass down with a heavy slam.

Oikawa shrinks back a little, eyes downcast, “I was lonely.” The brunet starts, “I was miserable. I had no friends. I wasn’t doing well. I was so _so_ lonely. And Ushijima was on the other team and I was just _so excited_ at seeing someone I knew. And then we got drunk. And well...”

Iwaizumi is waving at another waitress for a refill. 

“I wanted to die.” Oikawa says, and Iwaizumi looks at him for the first time then, because even though he’s furious--beyond furious--the tone terrifies him. Because its devoid of anything but truth. Raw, honest, painful truth, “I really wanted to die.” 

Iwaizumi doesn’t say anything but he grits his teeth behind his sealed lips.

“I couldn’t face you.” Oikawa continues after a minute, sitting up, growing bolder. The weight on his shoulders has been lifted and the words are suddenly cascading out of him, free. “I locked myself in my room and only studied and played volleyball. I didn’t try to make friends or anything. I just worked and worked and worked. Because it was nice to be too tired to think.”

Iwaizumi tries to smile at the waitress when she replaces his drink. It comes out more like a grimace. He starts drinking again immediately and it burns his throat but it’s better than anything else he’s feeling.

“I’m making excuses.” Oikawa mutters, and he takes a sip of his own drink. 

Iwaizumi wants to say something but thats when Hanamaki and Matsukawa stumble back into the booth. 

“Holy shit.” Hanamaki lets out, “How the fuck do you guys look even _worse_ now?” He gapes, a bit hesitant to climb back into the booth. Matsukawa nudges him and they slip in regardless. 

The atmosphere can only be described as awkward. Oikawa is miserable, sunk down on his side, staring at the wall. Iwaizumi is tense beside him, chugging down the alcohol as a desperate distraction. Matsukawa and Hanamaki glance at each other, trying to figure out a way to slice through the thick air. 

Before they can say anything, Iwaizumi starts talking, placing his drink down with an ungraceful clatter, “Oikawa and I dated in high school.” He mentions bluntly. He gropes for his drink again and almost knocks it over, but he manages to take it and swallow few more mouthfuls as his words settle on the table. 

Oikawa sits up straight, staring at him widely in disbelief, mouth slightly agape. 

The pair across from them blink at each other, “Well,” Matsukawa starts, “We all had our _suspicions_.”

“I’m offended you never told us.” Hanamaki mutters, if only to inject a bit of humor back into the conversation. It doesn’t seem to work. 

“We broke up.” Iwaizumi continues, and he’s not sure why he’s letting all this out but he’s very upset. Incredibly upset. And his heart hurts. And alcohol has always made his lips loose, “We haven’t seen each other since. Sorry about the heavy atmosphere.”

He finishes his second drink and calls for another. 

Hanamaki and Matuskawa actually look uncomfortable. A rare sight that Iwaizumi would normally enjoy. But he can’t really enjoy anything. He’s just angry and sad. Still, it’s nice to not be miserable alone.

“Well,” Matsukawa says again, “It’s been years now.” He tries, “New beginnings and all that?”

Iwaizumi snorts, and then he starts laughing. A loud forced laugh full of bitterness. Because it’s absurd. Because it’s not that _simple_. Because God he wished he could just forget it all and start a new but that’s not how his _mind_ works. It’s not how his _heart_ works. 

Matsukawa and Hanamaki share another alarmed look. 

Oikawa watches Iwaizumi carefully, “Iwaizumi,” He murmurs, a hand hovering over his shoulder, worry overflowing him. Especially as Iwaizumi reaches for his third drink. 

Iwaizumi shoots him a glare that makes Oikawa look away, hands falling to his sides. “Stop it. Don’t touch me. I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine.” Hanamaki comments, and his tone is serious, a rare sight, “Maybe we should reschedule.”

“No.” Iwaizumi snaps back, slamming his drink down for more emphasis, “I told Koto, I’d have fun.”

“Koto?” Oikawa repeats, the name foreign to his ears.

“His ex-wife.” Matsukawa explains, with a little wave.

Oikawa’s eyes widen and he stares at Matsukawa incredulously, “His _ex_ -wife?” 

“Shit,” Hanamaki mutters, “Did he not know you were married?”

“You’re divorced?” Oikawa cries out, staring at Iwaizumi. 

Iwaizumi is downing his third drink. 

“You know about the kid right?” Matsukawa murmurs, leaning forward with a frown.

“I’ve been acquainted.” Oikawa assures, with a grimace as his knee pain flares up at the thought.

Iwaizumi suddenly glares at him fiercely, putting down his glass with a loud clatter. The sound makes Oikawa jump, “You keep Kaede out of this.”

The brunet blinks at the accusation, but says nothing less he aggravate the man more. 

Iwaizumi picks up his glass again.

“This is a disaster.” Hanamaki announces, with a sigh, “Here I thought we’d all have fun together again.”

“I’m sorry.” Oikawa whispers.

“Since when did you start saying sorry?” Hanamaki wonders, squinting at him.

Oikawa shrugs, and pushes away his barely touched drink, “I should go.” He decides, sadly.

Hanamaki and Matsukawa don’t deserve to see this drama. They had nothing to do with it. He was ruining their fun night. He should just go. He should never have come. 

He should never have done a lot of things.

But before Oikawa can even _try_ to get out of the booth Iwaizumi finally loses it. He slams his empty glass down sloppily, knocking it over. 

“Ushijima?” Iwaizumi growls, hands rubbing at his forehead, “ _Ushijima?”_ He repeats, louder.

“Iwaizumi.” Oikawa freezes, a panic in his eyes. Matuskawa and Hanamaki are lost and now forgotten by the angry man. 

“Of all the people in this whole god damn _world!_ ” Iwaizumi continues, voice bellowing through the bar. People are staring at them. Waitresses are whispering at each other. 

“I know. I _know_.” Oikawa whispers, biting his lip, praying that Iwaizumi would keep his voice down.

“I thought you _hated_ him!” Iwaizumi shouts, turning completely towards Oikawa.

“I do! I _still_ do!” Oikawa insists and he’s panicked and scared and sick to his stomach, “He just won’t stop texting me--“

“YOU TEXT HIM?” Iwaizumi roars, and Oikawa shrinks back, terrified.

“Iwa-“

“You text _Ushijima_ and not _me_!?” He stands up, furiously. He pounds a fist on the table, making the entire structure rock. Hanamaki’s drink topples over and he lets out a curse. Matsukawa immediately grabs for the napkins. 

Oikawa says nothing. Because he can’t. There’s nothing he can say. He can feel the tears building at the corners of his eyes.

Iwaizumi finishes his drink, slams some bills on the table and storms out of the bar.

“Iwaizumi!” Oikawa calls back, finding his voice once more. He stumbles out of the booth to chase after him. “Iwaizumi _please_!” He scrambles for the door. 

Oikawa finds him outside, stumbling a little and trying to flag down a cab. He rushes to him, grabbing his arm. Iwaizumi tries to fight him off, “Let go of me you _piece of shit_.”

“Iwaizumi, _please_!” Oikawa is crying. Iwaizumi hates it. Has always hated it. Will never not hate it. And he’s supposed to not give in to this. 

“Stop fucking crying!” Iwaizumi shouts at him. He stops struggling a moment to roughly wipe away the tears with his hand. Oikawa is too shocked by the action to do anything, “You’re an ugly cryer!”

“Iwaizumi?” Oikawa whispers hoarsely, eyebrows knitted together.

“Leave me the fuck alone.” Iwaizumi growls, and maybe downing so many drinks so quickly was a bad idea,because he almost slips. Oikawa catches him, pulling him up, “Let me go!”

“You’re drunk.” Oikawa insists, voice scratchy and raw. 

“I don’t fucking care.” Iwaizumi snaps, “Go fuck Ushijima.” 

Oikawa glares at him then, but doesn’t let him go. Iwaizumi struggles but he’s sloppy at best. He stops after a minute. Enough to calm himself down with a few deep breaths. Oikawa senses the change and releases his grip tentatively, making sure the other man doesn’t fall. 

Iwaizumi starts wiping at his own eyes, and he leans against the wall of the bar to catch his breath. Oikawa leans beside him, careful not to have their shoulder’s brush. Careful to give Iwaizumi space. He doesn’t say anything. He waits. 

“Was it just...Was it just that one time?” Iwaizumi whispers out, hollow and tired and sad.

Oikawa lets out a shaky sigh, “It’s complicated.” He admits, looking up at the starless sky, “It was just that one time, and then I didn’t even look at another person for two years. And then...” Oikawa pulls at a strand of his hair, “And then I kinda went a bit crazy.”

Iwaizumi looks over at him. 

“When I started playing professionally, I met up with him again.” Oikawa continues, “We kinda had an on off thing for a while. To be honest I’m pretty sure I was just using him.”

“Using him?” Iwaizumi repeats, a bitter taste in his mouth.

“To punish myself.” Oikawa’s eyes look out into the street again.

They’re silent for a while. A long while. The city hums around them, the street lamps flicker, and the din of the bar echoes behind them. 

Finally, Oikawa breaks it, “I’m not a good person, Iwaizumi.”

“No shit.” Iwaizumi mutters, wiping his nose with the back of his arm.

Oikawa looks down at his shoes, “You deserve better.” 

Iwaizumi isn’t expecting that. 

“You’ve always deserved better but I’ve always been so selfish.” Oikawa continues, unprompted, “I’ve always wanted you to be _my_ Iwa-chan. No one else’s. You were my first friend. My first everything. I... But I don’t deserve you.” He licks his dry lips, “You never did anything wrong. And all I did was keep fucking up. And every time I was thrown a bone I just dug a deeper hole with it.” He rubs at his eyes, “You’ve always been so good, Iwaizumi. Even now, after everything, you’re still so good to me. You deserve a good person. A better person.”

“Oikawa.”

Oikawa shakes his head, and looks over at him, “I’m sorry.”

Iwaizumi stares at him. 

Oikawa straightens up, pulling away from the wall, “Let me pay for your cab.” He continues.

Iwaizumi watches him flag one down expertly. He walks over, lets Oikawa open the door and steps inside. He squints at him, numb and tired and sad. 

But Oikawa has never looked so mature. Has never looked _so handsome_. And he shouldn’t still think that after so long. But maybe it’s the alcohol.

Oikawa hesitates at the door. Fingers drumming against it. He licks his lips. 

“Oikawa.”

Oikawa looks down at him, jumpy, and steps away from the door. 

“ _Oikawa_.”

Oikawa blinks at him, in non-understanding. 

Iwaizumi doesn’t know what possesses him to say the next few words. Maybe it’s the look of defeat in Oikawa’s eyes, the sad emptiness in those brown swirls, that Iwaizumi has never liked seeing. Maybe it’s the fact that Oikawa’s finally told him everything, that a huge weight has finally been lifted from his tired shoulders. Maybe it’s the fact he can’t deny the jump in his heart at the sudden reappearance of his life long friend. 

Maybe it’s the alcohol.

“What are you doing next weekend?”

Definitely the alcohol.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! With more heartache, but a bit of progress! 
> 
> Life's been hectic but now im settled back in for my senior year of college (scary). 
> 
> updates will still probs not be regular
> 
> anyways hope you enjoy!


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> just keep digging deeper

Oikawa groans, pulling up the covers above his face to shield himself from the sun's invading rays. He curls up, leg brushing against the now vacant spot beside him. He kicks out idly, wishfully. But there's nothing there, and his leg simply glides against the dirty sheets. There's a slight burn in his knee.

He hears the faucet in the bathroom and the buzz of a razor. He presses his face into his pillow, groaning again. The buzzing stops after a few minutes and soon after the door opens.

Oikawa peeks out to see Ushijima, selecting a tie from his wardrobe. It's a deep purple.

"You should shower." Ushijima comments, in his usual monotone.

Oikawa groans louder, "What time is it?"

"7:46." Comes the precise response.

Oikawa wants to vomit and he curls up tighter, "Are you trying to kill me?" He whines.

Ushijima blinks at him, "No?"

Oikawa rolls his eyes, and sits up, "Ug, never mind." He snaps, rubbing his face.

"Are you alright?" Ushijima asks, looking over as he ties his tie expertly.

"Super." Oikawa responds, stretching himself out.

Ushijima squints at him a moment, "You are being sarcastic."

"You're evolving." Oikawa notes, "It's seven in the fucking morning of course I'm not alright."

Ushijima frowns, "I see."

Oikawa remembers now, why they never bother with small talk when they meet up. It's draining. It's horrible. It's more trouble than it's worth.

He lies back down, staring up at the ceiling.

"You will be leaving my home eventually?" Ushijima prompts, combing his hair through once, twice, done.

"I wouldn't want to overstay my welcome." Oikawa sighs out, never glancing away from the white wall above him.

Ushijima doesn't say anything, but he seems to regret his words, if only for a moment. After a silent beat, he slips on his jacket, "I am going now."

"Great." Oikawa murmurs, a hand lying across his face to make the room a bit darker. His speech is muffled. He hears Ushijima leave the room with a click of the door.

Oikawa screams into his pillow and wonders what he's even doing anymore.

* * *

 

After cutting off ties with Iwaizumi, with Japan entirely, minus his family, Oikawa had plunged himself into his schoolwork and practice. He didn't spend time outside of his room if he wasn't in class or in the gym. He didn't see people. He didn't talk to people.

It was working. His grades started to rise almost immediately, and it drove him further. And that was all that mattered. That and coach's complements.

Oikawa did feel dead inside. Like he was empty, like he had lost everything when he'd given it all to Ushijima that stupid  _stupid_  night months ago. He wasn't himself. He couldn't  _be_  himself.

He kind of wanted to die. He  _really_  wanted to die. But his parents were so proud of him, and his coach was so encouraging and his grades were going up and he didn't want to be a bother. And at this point he had lied so much about having a great time, he couldn't break that mask to his mother and father.

So, he trudges along, head in the books, feet on the court, passing the days.

And then he breaks again, late in his junior year. He shatters. Because you can only live so long alone before you become desperate for another person.

He finds himself outside Ricky's room one night, one of the few people he had stayed semi-acquainted with all these years. He feels kind of sick for what he's doing, but he's drunk a bit too much and he's just  _so_ tired and he  _knows_  the man has wanted him for years now.

So he knocks on the door and before they can even really talk about anything he's in his bed.

The next morning is a bit more complicated, as Oikawa explains while picking his clothes up from the floor that he isn't interested in dating. He doesn't think he'll ever be interested in dating. _It's not you it's me._

That starts his bedroom hoping. It isn't hard. He  _is_  very attractive, and there's something soothing about the fact that people  _still want_  him. That he still matters. That he's still  _wanted_.

There are a few more times he meets up with Ushijima then too, and it's much easier with him. Because Ushijima has  _even less_  interest in romance, simply doesn't seem to understand it. And it's nice not to have to explain and disappoint.

Oikawa knows this isn't particularly healthy. In fact, he knows it's quite self destructive. But that doesn't stop him because  _so what_?

He'd stopped caring about his own well being long ago.

* * *

"Oikawa."

"No." Oikawa responds immediately, not bothering to open up his eyes.

"I am confused?" Ushijima asks, looking at him, "I wish to speak with you."

"I hate talking to you." Oikawa explains, turning away sharply enough to make his knee tingle. It's worth it so that he's lying on his other side. His bare back faces the other man, the dirty covers slipping down to show off his pale smooth skin. He's sweaty and sticky and tired. And the last thing he wants to do is have a conversation with Ushijima.

"You are upset." Ushijima continues, bland as always.

"It's what happens when I hear your voice." Oikawa snaps without budging.

"You have become more upset every time I've engaged with you these past few years." Ushijima announces his observation, frowning deeply.

Oikawa tightens his grip on the pillow cushioning his head, "It's none of your business."

"I believe it is?" Ushijima blinks.

Oikawa growls under his breath, flipping back over, "Look. I  _really_  don't want to talk about it." He hisses out. Because the last thing he wants is to be psychoanalyzed by fucking Ushijima Wakatoshi. He does it enough to himself already.

Ushijima watches him a moment, his blank stare eating up his face. But then he shrugs and closes his eyes, dozing off immediately.

Oikawa can't stand him.

He sits up, hands tightening into fists in his lap. He tries to take in a deep breath. He debates leaving. It's a long train ride home and he's not sure where his clothes are. He lets out the breath and lies back down. He thinks about his team, conjuring up a happy memory, and their goal to win the upcoming tournament.

Happy thoughts.

He wonders what Iwaizumi is doing.

* * *

 

He honestly should have expected this by now. He'd been feeling the familiar burn for quite some time. But he also  _didn't care_.

And so he kind of wants to laugh when he crumples to the ground in the middle of a huge game, after sending off a serve. He sits there, biting his lip, biting back the hollow chuckle and trying to keep the pained tears from escaping his wide eyes.

His team is surrounding him and he realizes he doesn't care about any of them. Not a single one. He knows everything about them, their weaknesses, their strengths, their preferred tosses. But he can't bring himself to care about any of them. They're a random assortment of the best players in the country, stitched together for this tournament.

Their concerned touches feel empty. Everything in this scenario is empty. He's empty.

They help him up and onto the bench. He sits there and stares at his knee. His horrendous looking knee. It's red and swollen and he can't really move it unless he wants to scream.

Boy, does he want to scream.

But he can't scream.

So, he forces on a smile for his teammates, for his coach, for his fans. Like he usually does. Like he always does.

He remembers the last time. He remembers how different and yet the same it was. He remembers his old team circling him in worry. He remembers Iwaizumi pushing them out of the way. He remembers his angry words to take care of himself. He remembers the crack in Iwaizumi's voice, raw from worry.

He remembers Iwaizumi.

Is this it then?

* * *

 

It's a surreal conversation when his coach tells him he can never play again. It's even more surreal when he finds they've already replaced them. He's given condolences and good lucks. And then he is ushered out of the gym.

That chapter of his life suddenly closes behind him and in the wake he is left with less than nothing.

He sits down on the bench and stares up at the sky.

He debates returning home then. It had been long enough, and now that he couldn't play what was left for him here? He misses his parents. He misses Japan. He misses being himself.

He misses being happy.

Not that everything had been miserable. There were times he'd honestly enjoyed himself. Seeing his team rise in the ranks and enter the big stadium was probably one of his biggest accomplishments. He would not trade that away.

But he's not sure if it was worth the cost.

He misses being  _consistently_  happy _._

He wonders what Iwaizumi is doing.

* * *

 

"You can no longer play?" Ushijima comments, on top of him.

Oikawa really doesn't want to have this conversation right now, with Ushijima, when he has his fingers in him. But Ushijima has never been one to read the atmosphere. Or to be particularly sympathetic. Or to be anything but Ushijima-esque.

"No." Oikawa replies, grinding down on Ushijima's hand to remind him of what he  _should_  be focusing on.

"That is unfortunate." Ushijima murmurs, and he actually sounds upset. Which weirds Oikawa out. He glares at him because the last thing he wants is Ushijima's pity. "This is not the first time you have injured your knee?"

"No." Oikawa repeats, with a huff and he wishes he had drank more before coming over to his fuckfriend's apartment. He had not expected this. Maybe he should have taken off his brace so as not to have it function as a conversation starter.

"So you hurt it in University as well?" Ushijima reasons, running a finger along the brace. It's the only thing Oikawa is still wearing. Oikawa shudders at the touch and squirms. He arches his back a bit, taking in a breath, "Or high school?"

Oikawa swallows, "In high school." He answers, fingers digging into the covers laid out beneath them. Ushijima gives a grunt of affirmation, and his fingers suddenly speed up. Oikawa drops back down onto the bed, biting his lip, grateful the conversation is over.

Ushijima isn't finished however, as he adds, "I am certain this would not have happened if you had come to Shiratorizawa."

Oikawa freezes. He becomes numb to anything Ushijima is doing. He slowly sits up, eyes wide and blank. Ushijima slows down his hand, scrunching his eyebrows at him. Oikawa's own hand suddenly darts up, grabbing the collar of the shirt Ushijima still has on, "Get off of me." He hisses, cold, icy. He let's go of the fabric in disgust. Ushijima blinks, but does as he is told, slipping his fingers out and backing away.

Oikawa gets up, picking up his clothes from the ground and putting them on. His hands tremble in anger. He is completely silent. Ushijima watches him, eyebrows furrowed, "You are leaving?"

"Fuck off." Oikawa growls, zipping up his jacket with a sense of finality.

"You are upset?" Ushijima continues.

Oikawa slams the door shut as he leaves.

He walks down the block, the cold air stinging his cheeks. He gets to a metro station and sits down. He holds his face in his hands, pressing them into his eyes. He takes in a shuddering breath.

Oikawa remembers the frustration, the anger, the misery of his initial injury. And he remembers Iwaizumi's face, upset, furious and filled with deathly worry. He remembers his teammates, crowding him. He remembers the care and love they gave him over the next few months.

He remembers the stars.

He misses his train twice.

He gets home in the early morning.

Whatever home even means anymore.

* * *

 

"...Oikawa-san?"

Oikawa shoots his head up from the e-mail he's reading. He's sitting cross legged at a cafe, in one of their outdoor tables. It's early morning.

He had not heard an honorific attached to his name in a long,  _long_  time.

To his greatest surprise, Kageyama Tobio stands before him.

He looks older, he's grown a bit taller, his eyes sharper but his mouth not as tight. He looks at him quizzically, awkwardly holding on to his bag. Like now that he's confirmed his old rival is sitting in front of him he's not sure what to do with himself.

Oikawa closes his laptop, ignoring the e-mail from an old college teammate offering him a position as a consultant for a big company. He wasn't even sure if he was staying in the country at this point. It could wait.

"Tobio-chan!" Oikawa grins, and the childish name rolls off his tongue so easily. Kageyama bristles a bit but makes no comment. Oikawa motions to the empty seat in front of him and Kageyama sits down stiffly. "What are you doing in America?"

"I am on vacation with my team." Kageyama responds, leaning over to place his bag on the ground before straightening up, "Shouyou and I decided to go on an early morning run and then stop for coffee."

"Shouyou?" Oikawa echoes, trying to dig back into his brain for a face to match the name.

Kageyama reddens a bit, "Hinata." He explains. Oikawa still reads a blank. Kageyama frowns a bit and adds further clarification, "He played on Karasuno with me. Orange hair, quick toss, short-"

"Ah! Chibi-chan!" Oikawa smiles, relishing the little annoyed grimace Kageyama has to push down. How cute. "You two are still friends?"

Kageyama reddens even more, and Oikawa's eyes glint a little.  _More than friends_ , he easily reads, quirking his lips up.

"Yes." Kageyama responds with a cough, "We are still on the same team playing professionally."

Oikawa's heart clenches but he ignores it, "How sweet, I didn't know Tobio-chan could keep a friend for so long."

Kageyama frowns, "Speaking of friends," He quickly changes the subject, "I was surprised to not see you at the wedding."

Oikawa's veins turn icy, his heart stops beating. There's an immediate thought that comes to his mind at this new piece of information but he it pushes down and plays it cool, "Oh? You were? How come?"

Kageyama blinks, "Because you and Iwaizumi-san were always so close."

Oikawa can't feel his heart anymore. It's gone. There is only a cold lump in his chest that weighs down his lungs and scrapes against his ribs, settling itself in his stomach. He's nauseous.

He laughs, "He was upset with me too." He lies, "But I really couldn't get away. I had a really important game that weekend." Kageyama blinks but nods after a moment, buying it. "How was the ceremony?"

"It was...uh...nice." Kageyama scratches the back of his head.

"Is that all your little brain could muster up?" Oikawa chuckles again, stabbing his pastry with a fork, perhaps a bit too roughly.

A flash of orange barrels into Kageyama, interrupting the both of them. "Tobio!" The man looks up with a bright grin, "I was calling for you, idiot!"

"Sorry." Kageyama murmurs, trying to push down the natural smile that sprung up on his features. Oikawa's eyes narrow. "I bumped into someone."

Hinata looks over, blinking his eyes, as they go wide. He points at the brunet, mouth dropping, "It's the Grand King! The Grand King! The Gran King sits before us!"

"Shut up, dumbass." Kageyama glowers, trying to cover the hyper man's mouth with his hand. It's no use with all the bouncing he's doing.

Oikawa grins, Kageyama frowns. He stands up, bowing deeply, "It was nice seeing you again, Oikawa-san." With that he turns to leave, Hinata following after him, arms looped around his. Oikawa waves them off.

As soon as the pair disappear from sight the smile falls off Oikawa's face. He stares at the table.

Wedding.

Iwaizumi's wedding.

Iwaizumi got married.

Iwaizumi is married.

Iwaizumi's moved on.

Iwaizumi is in love.

Iwaizumi is in love with someone else.

Iwaizumi is married.

Iwaizumi is gone.

Oikawa wants to scream.

He doesn't.

It was selfish of him to ever think he'd have another chance. That Iwaizumi  _wouldn't_  move on. Selfish and insane.

He takes in a deep calming breath.

He opens up his laptop again. The e-mail with the job opportunity lights up his screen. He presses reply,

_Hello,_

_Thank you for this amazing opportunity! I would love to apply for this position. Who should I send my resume to?_

_Thank you,_

_-Tooru Oikawa_

He sends it off and closes his laptop.

He'll stick it through here.

There's no salvation in Japan.

Not anymore.

No more second chances.

The best was far behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im very sick atm (why im updating this instead of doing my homework)  
> this chapter is meh but it had to be written
> 
> again cant promise any speedy updates. my thesis is killing me
> 
> see you next time!


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> you're not allowed to be so nice to me

The ball sails past both of them, hitting the court like a dead weight, Hanamaki’s fist just a centimeter too short. The referee blows his whistle, the crowd cheers.

Oikawa’s hands are tight fists at his side. Iwaizumi is gritting his teeth.

They line up.

Their last match of their second year of high school is over.

They’ve lost.

It’s bitter in the locker room. The third years aren’t speaking. The first years are crying for them. Matsukawa stares at his gym bag, unmoving. Hanamaki stares at his hands. They’re all moving in slow motion, gathering their things.

Their captain says something, they respond robotically and all move out to go eat.

Oikawa doesn’t budge.

Iwaizumi knows what he’s thinking, because he’s thinking the same damn thing.

 _I let our senpais down_.

Because this was different than last year’s lost. This time they were starting players. This time, Oikawa was their starting setter.

 _This time_ was supposed to be different.

Iwaizumi throws a fist at the wall in frustration, and the tears start falling down his crinkled face.

Oikawa looks back at him, eyes soft.

“Iwa-chan.” He murmurs, and he can’t bear to look his best friend in the eye, so he stares at the towel he’s gripping in his hands, “I’m sorry.” He chokes out.

Iwaizumi stares at him, “Don’t.” He hisses, “Don’t fucking apologize.”

Oikawa loses it then, gripping the towel in his fist and twisting it tightly “It’s my fault they read my toss!”

“It’s my fault they received my spike!”

“It’s my fault I didn’t block their spike!”

“It’s my fault too!”

“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa cries, and he crumples over a little, hugging himself tightly. The towel falls to the ground with a wet slap. His fingers dig into his arms and his tears won’t stop, “I’m so-so _frustrated_.”

“You think I’m not either?” Iwaizumi snaps, coming over in a rush.

“It’s like no matter what we do, he can just smash through it. No matter what we think up together he ruins it in his-his stupid Ushijima way!”

Iwaizumi wipes at his eyes, letting out a growl because he can’t even think through his anger to respond in words. Oikawa understands. He lets go of himself, reaching out to tug Iwaizumi close, to hold him, to cling to him.

Iwaizumi returns the hold.

“Iwa-chan.” Oikawa hisses, burying his face in his shoulders, “I _hate_ losing.” His fingers dig into the back of Iwaizumi’s jersey, gripping the sweaty fabric tightly in his fingers.

“Next year.” And it’s all Iwaizumi says, but he says it like a promise. Oikawa half believes him.

They stay like that a moment, wrapped together, taking a ragged breath and trying to stem the tears. They give themselves this moment. It’s too short. They pull apart because their team is waiting for them. And they don’t want them getting suspicious.

Despite the fear, Iwaizumi grips Oikawa’s hand, squeezing it tightly. Oikawa squeezes back. He wipes at his eyes with his other hand, trying to take a calming breath.

“Iwa-chan.” Oikawa starts again, voice still raw and shaky despite his efforts, “When we get home, can I kiss you?”

“You don’t have to ask.” Iwaizumi replies. They each take another deep breath and head out of the locker room together. When they cross over the doorway, they let go of each other completely.

Outside of the gym the team is loitering, Matsukawa and Hanamaki give them a distracted wave. Their eyes are raw as well. No one comments on it. Now that everyone is accounted for the team heads out together, into the darkening sky.

* * *

They’re at Iwaizumi’s house and Oikawa won’t stop kissing him.

His hands slide all across Iwaizumi’s body, fingers rubbing and squeezing, desperate for contact. Iwaizumi can only grip onto Oikawa’s back, from where he’s lying on his back on his bed.

They break apart for breath, resting their foreheads on each other. Iwaizumi feels a few drops fall on his cheek and he sees Oikawa is tearing up again. He wipes them away with his thumb. Oikawa squeezes his eyes shut and sits up, perched on top of Iwaizumi.

He wipes at his nose with the back of his arms.

“You’re an ugly crier.” Iwaizumi tries to lighten the mood. Oikawa swats him weakly, but remains upset.

“I’m just so _mad_.” He hisses, looking up at the cieling in an attempt to make the tears go away. As if gravity will force them back in. Iwaizumi watches the ceiling too. It gives him an idea.

“Get off me.” He orders, unceremoniously. Oikawa blinks but shuffles off him, sniffling a bit.Iwaizumi sits up, swinging his legs off the bed and getting up. Oikawa watches him, brows furrowed and eyes searching.

Iwaizumi motions for him to follow.

It’s late in the night and both his parents are asleep. The pair of teenagers sneak down to his front door, slip on their shoes and traverse to his backyard. They’re silent, and Oikawa doesn’t question Iwaizumi’s path as he leads him to the little creek, and the old tree bridge lying over it.

They climb onto it and Iwaizumi sits down in the middle of it. He pats the spot beside him and Oikawa joins him wordlessly.

It’s smaller then they remember, but they don’t mind being pressed close against each other.

“Oikawa.” Iwaizumi begins, collecting his thoughts carefully.

“Yeah?” Oikawa glues his eyes to him, waiting for the words Iwaizumi will carefully craft to make him feel better.

“Ushijima is a shithead.”

Oikawa laughs, a grin breaking out on his red tear stained face. His fingers dig into the bark of the fallen tree, and he turns to Iwaizumi, eyes glinting, “Iwa-chan, you have such a way with words.”

Iwaizumi snorts, but he’s grinning too, looking over at his best friend, “Shut up.”

“I mean it. You’re turning me on.” Oikawa teases, leaning forward and pecking him on the mouth.

“Pervert.” Iwaizumi barks back, but he leans over to press his own kiss.

Oikawa smiles, “But why out here?” He wonders against his lips.

Iwaizumi hums, taking Oikawa’s chin to lift his face up, “You’re always happier lookin’ at the stars.”

Oikawa reddens then, fingers digging into the bark enough for pieces to chip away. Iwaizumi flushes a bit himself, realizing how _corny_ the words are once they leave him.

Oikawa doesn’t respond, but takes in the view of the countless stars spanning above him. And then he’s tearing up again, biting his lip tightly to keep from crying.

Iwaizumi frowns, letting go of the other’s face.

“Iwa-chan isn’t allowed to be so nice to me.” Oikawa murmurs, wiping at his face quickly.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Iwaizumi snaps back, “You’re my best friend. More than that.”

Oikawa’s ears _burn_. He lifts his feet up to hug his knees. And the next thing he says he doesn’t mean to come out. They’re words he means to whisper into his knees, but its very quiet in the night and they carry, “I don’t deserve it.”

He grips his knees tighter.

Iwaizumi furrows his brows, “What the _hell_ is that supposed to mean? What happened to that huge ego of yours.”

Oikawa’s fingernails dig into his skin and he looks down.

Iwaizumi stares at him with a frown. Something clenches in his heart.

“I want to be better.” Oikawa hisses finally, eyes focused on the dark creek beneath them.

“Everybody wants to be better.” Iwaizumi assures.

But no, Oikawa thinks, as he peaks over at Iwaizumi. Because Iwaizumi is honest, and good, and nice, and strong, and everything Oikawa _isn’t_. And Oikawa _needs_ to be better, so he doesn’t drag Iwaizumi down. Because he _needs_ Iwaizumi much more than Iwaizumi could ever need him.

Because it’s very obvious why Oikawa would want someone like Iwaizumi. The opposite doesn’t hold as true.

His thoughts are interrupted as he feels Iwaizumi’s chin on his shoulder. It makes him turns his head. Iwaizumi takes the moment to lock their lips, hand coming up to cup Oikawa’s face. Oikawa kisses him back earnestly, under the stars, as the tears keep rolling down his cheeks.

* * *

He needs to be better.

Oikawa slams another ball across the silent court, panting heavily. He’d been at it for hours now, and the sweat was starting to blur his vision. His arms feel like jelly and his legs burn. But he knows he can last another ten minutes.

Just ten more minutes.

He grabs another ball from the ground, wiping some sweat from his forehead and taking in a breath. He readies his serve, running forward and sending the ball into the air before slamming it down, hard.

He smiles despite everything.

“Oikawa!”

He swivels around in alarm to see Iwaizumi storming into the gym, looking pissed.

Oikawa waves at him, albeit a bit weakly.

“What the hell are you doing in the gym so late?” Iwaizumi snaps, but his eyes only show through with worry.

Oikawa can’t seem to find words at the moment, and he’s still panting heavily. He’s feeling a bit woozy. Iwaizumi frowns deeper, coming over and steadying him. “Shit, you’re _soaked_.” He grumbles, and helps his friend to sit at one of the bleachers. “Are you staying hydrated?”

Oikawa points at his discarded bottle, and Iwaizumi fills it up for him before handing it over. Oikawa gulps it down, almost chocking on the liquid. Iwaizumi frowns deeper.

“Thanks, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa finally manages, wiping his mouth with the back of forearm, “But there’s no need to worry!”

Iwaizumi raises a brow, “Do you think I’m an idiot?”

Oikawa frowns.

“How long have you been doing this? Is this why you won’t walk home with me anymore? Cause you’re holing yourself up here practicing til you pass out?”

“I’m _fine_ , Iwa-chan.” Oikawa interjects, taking another drink.

“Like hell you are.” Iwaizumi snarls, “Stop overworking yourself. Interhigh isn’t even until after the third years graduate.”

Oikawa grimaces, “You worry too much.”

“I have to.” Iwaizumi snaps, sitting down beside him, “Since you don’t seem to have any instincts for self preservation in that stupid ass head of yours.”

Oikawa hums tiredly, pressing the cold bottle to his forehead, “At least I’m pretty right?” He teases.

Iwaizumi swats his arm and Oikawa sighs. Iwaizumi pinches his cheek and Oikawa whines loudly with a fierce pout, trying to pull his hand anyway. Iwaizumi takes the moment to lean forward, kissing him briefly.

Oikawa blinks at him, and looks away, “Don’t kiss me, I’m all gross and sweaty.”

Iwaizumi hits him on the head and Oikawa cries out, cradling the spot.

“Go shower. You’re done practicing.” Iwaizumi orders. Oikawa groans but goes to follow orders, standing up.

Only to find his legs trembling. Maybe he _had_ been over exerting himself. Iwaizumi grabs him, “Oh my god, are you serious?” He exhales, and his grip is tight and protective, “Can you even stand on your own?”

Oikawa lets out a dry laugh, “I don’t know anymore...It was never this bad before...”

Iwaizumi grits his teeth, “Come on. I’ll help you.”

Oikawa smiles, “My knight in shining armor.”

“Shut it.”

By the time they reach the locker room Oikawa is fine standing on his own, but Iwaizumi doesn’t trust him.Especially not on wet slippery tile.

“No.” Oikawa says firmly, a bit red, “You are _not_ helping me shower.”

Iwaizumi is already taking his shirt off, “I’ve seen you naked like every other day. Since when did you have _any_ shame?”

Oikawa splutters, “This is _different_.”

“Shut up.” Iwaizumi growls, because he’s honestly really angry at Oikawa for doing this to himself. But he’s also angry at himself for allowing it to happen. “We’ve showered together before.”

“Yeah, when we were kids.” Oikawa insists weakly, but he seems mostly defeated, as he slips his own sweaty shirt off. “It’s weird...now...”

“It’s only weird if you make it weird.” Iwaizumi continues, but he hesitates before taking off his boxers, “Are you actually uncomfortable? I just want to make sure you don’t crack your head open like the moron you are.”

Oikawa pauses a moment and purses his lips a little, “It’s fine.” He decides, but he won’t meet Iwaizumi’s gaze.

“You’re doing it wrong.” Oikawa mutters from where he’s seated on the shower stool, eyes closed to keep the suds out of his eyes. He feels Iwaizumi’s fingers dig into his scalp more forcefully and he whines, “Don’t be mean to my hair.” He insists.

Iwaizumi lightens up, and starts massaging the scented shampoo into the strands, going slower. Oikawa smiles, humming a little. Because it’s nice. It feels nice.

Iwaizumi keeps playing in his hair, long after the shampoo is washed away by the steady stream of water. Oikawa decides not to comment, relaxing his tired shoulders and leaning into Iwaizumi’s big, calloused hands. They slip lower, tracing lines down his neck, circling his shoulders, falling down his arms. Iwaizumi’s leaning forward, face pressed into Oikawa’s hair. His fingers tighten on Oikawa’s arms a moment.

Oikawa turns his head, catching Iwaizumi’s face by surprise and pressing a soft, tired kiss upon his lips. Iwaizumi presses back instantly, and Oikawa finds himself twisting around so he can reach him better. It’s slow and drawn out and nothing like their usual kisses. Usually they’re pressed for time, usually they know they could be caught by anyone.

But here, in this shower, in this empty gym, they have all the time in the world.

“ _Hajime_.” Oikawa breathes into his lips, like a prayer. And it really is a prayer, a prayer full of thanks. Because how could he be so lucky? To have someone like Iwaizumi Hajime look past all his shitty flaws and take care of him like this? How long could he stay so lucky?

Iwaizumi doesn’t respond to his name, only tightens his grip around him, “Do you want to sleepover?” He asks quietly, and his voice is so low but it still has the familiar roughness at the edges.

Oikawa smiles against him, “Sure.” He murmurs, and Iwaizumi goes in for more kisses but Oikawa pulls away, “But you have to condition my hair first.”

Iwaizumi blinks, “I forgot you did that.”

“It’s critical.” Oikawa assures, straightening up. Iwaizumi snorts but doesn’t protest as he grabs the other bottle. He pours it into his hand and massages it through the brown locks. He’s getting better at this, Oikawa thinks as he closes his eyes.

After a moment Iwaizumi lets the water run through the brown soft hair, combing through it with his fingers until the product is all gone. He continues to run his hands through it though, his hands coming up to cup his best friend’s jaw. He tilts his head back, forcing Oikawa to look up at him. Brown eyes blink up at him quizzically.

“Hey.” Iwaizumi murmurs, softly, leaning closer and shielding him from the spray of the water, “Promise me something?”

“Yeah?” Oikawa asks with a quirk of his brow.

“Take care of yourself.”

Oikawa bites his lip, “Of course.” He mutters.

Iwaizumi nudges him a little, “I mean it, Oikawa.”

Oikawa doesn’t say anything.

“What if I’m not there one day?” Iwaizumi insists, fingers holding a bit too tightly.

“Why _wouldn’t_ you be there?” Oikawa counters, childishly. Iwaizumi frowns and lets go of him. Oikawa turns around to look at him, “I’m fine, Iwa-chan. Nothing’s going to happen.”

* * *

Something happens a week later.

Oikawa’s knee stops working, to be exact.

It happens in the middle of a practice match. During Oikawa’s jump serve. Iwaizumi realizes something isn’t right when Oikawa takes off. He doesn’t even watch as the setter connects his hand to the ball, sending it successfully to the other side. He doesn’t see anything except the quirk of Oikawa’s eyebrows as they shoot up his forehead in surprise. Because something has gone wrong.

It’s made more obvious when Oikawa lands; he stumbles a second, and it’s like he’s doing everything he can not to fall to the ground. The team doesn’t notice, too busy preparing themselves for the rival teams receive. Iwaizumi has abandoned his post at the front line, racing to the back where Oikawa stands, bent over, frozen.

“Oikawa.” He whispers, hovering over him.

Oikawa looks at him, and it’s the most honest face Iwaizumi has ever seen from his best friend. Painted thick with pain, eyes watery, eyebrows quivering. His hand grips onto his knee, the other one is balled up into a fist, fingernails digging into the skin of his palm. He looks terrified.

Iwaizumi wastes no time, shouting to the coach to call a time out.

The game stops.

They’re suddenly surrounded by a circle of concerned teammates, each trying to get a look at whats happened to their star setter. Iwaizumi ignores them, helping Oikawa over to the bench. One of their managers has run off to find the school nurse.

The game resumes. Iwaizumi returns to the field, albeit reluctantly. From the corner of his eyes he can see the nurse and one of the managers helping Oikawa away. Oikawa’s forcing on a smile, most likely telling them it looks worse than it is. Matsukawa pulls on the edge of Iwaizumi’s shirt and he focuses back on the game, jumping up to block.

He doesn’t know Oikawa is being taken to the hospital for X-rays.

He doesn’t find out until after practice ends an hour and a half later.

Oikawa doesn’t return his phone calls or his texts.

Iwaizumi can’t help but fear the worse.

He spends the evening in his room, sitting by the window that faces the house across the street. He watches like a hawk, waiting for the Oikawa family car to return home. As soon as it does, he waits ten minutes before charging over to his neighbor’s abode.

He feels a bit rude for dashing into the corridor as soon as Oikawa-san opens the door but the worry in him is all consuming. He doesn’t even give Oikawa a warning knock as he bursts into his room.

Oikawa starts, shooting his head up and looking at Iwaizumi with wide surprised eyes. He’s got his pants part way down, and grips the fabric in his hands tightly. Iwaizumi closes the door behind him.

“Well, Iwa-chan, I’m a bit busy at the momen-“ Oikawa begins, sounding too lighthearted for just returning from the hospital.

“What the _fuck_ is wrong with you?” Iwaizumi snaps, coming forward, “I called you _eight_ times.” Oikawa looks away, trying to think up a lie before deciding not to even try. He shrugs, instead. Iwaizumi smacks him upside the head, softer than usual. “You had me worried sick!”

Oikawa shrinks back a little, closing one eye and clapping his hands together, “Sorry!”

Iwaizumi glares. “So what’s the verdict?”

Oikawa’s playful smile falls then, “Well, I have to talk to coach tomorrow to figure out that part.” He brushes off. But Oikawa’s previous shenanigans had caused his pants to drop down and Iwaizumi has an easy view of the horribly red, swollen knee. His eyes widen, and he drops down to look at it closer, eyebrows knitted in worried.

“It looks worse than it is!” Oikawa quickly panics, trying to move back, but only hitting the edge of his bed. He stumbles a bit, catching himself in a sitting position.

Iwaizumi’s hands hover over the injury, but he’s too scared to touch it, lest he make it worse. He grits his teeth, coming up, “You know how scared I was?” He hisses, sitting beside his best friend.

“Don’t worry about me.” Oikawa brushes off, scratching the back of his neck, “I’m fine, honest.”

“You are not fine.” Iwaizumi growls, adding, “And of course I’m going to worry about you! I love you! And want you to take care of yourself!”

Oikawa looks at him, hands gripping his sheets, “What did you just say?”

“The truth.” Iwaizumi huffs, “You don’t take care of yourself at all.”

“No! Not that, before that!” Oikawa insists.

Iwaizumi squints at him.

Oikawa licks his dry lips, “You’ve never told me you loved me before.” He murmurs.

Iwaizumi blinks, and he can feel heat creeping up his face and down his neck. “Of course, I love you.” He tries to brush off.

Oikawa is suddenly all around him, hugging him tightly to his chest, “I love you too, Iwa-chan!”

“Stop!” Iwaizumi tries to push back, but Oikawa’s grip is vice-like around him.

“Nope!” Oikawa denies, “Never letting you go now!”

Iwaizumi snorts. Nevertheless he keeps trying to pull away, until his movement causes his leg to brush up against Oikawa’s swollen knee. Oikawa does his best not to react, but Iwaizumi can feel the sharp intake of breath, and the way that Oikawa’s fingers dig ever so slightly into him.

Iwaizumi stops struggling then, burying himself into the crook of Oikawa’s neck and wrapping his own arms around him.

He’s not letting go anytime soon either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was fun to write so i hope y'all liked it. 
> 
> feel free to scream at me on my tumblr at findingschmomo.tumblr.com
> 
> see you all in 2016!


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which, Oikawa and Iwaizumi rediscover each other

Iwaizumi lies on the couch with a wet rag on his face that morning. He lets out a groan and wonders what his life has become. He’d always felt he’d have figured everything out by the time he was thirty. Apparently not. Well, he still had a couple years, he supposes.

His phone buzzes.

He gropes for it on the coffee table and sees a text from Daichi light up his screen.

_call me_

He groans again, dropping the phone on his chest and rubbing at his tired eyes. One of them must have told Daichi about the night before.

The night before.

He sits up a little, and his phone falls into his lap. He takes off the wet rag, letting it slap onto the table beside him. He scratches an itch on his head and grabs his phone once more, opening up Hanamaki’s contact.

_hey don’t air my dirty laundry to my other friends_

There is a prompt reply and Iwaizumi feels a bit bad. Usually when they hang out for drinks, Hanamaki refuses to communicate with others until after dinner because of his hangover.

_you really had us worried man :/_

Iwaizumi frowns.

_I’m really sorry you had to see that._

Dots dance along his phone screen. He waits.

_It’s ok._

_Well, it’s sucky but I get it._

_I hope you guys can figure this out._

Iwaizumi bites his lip. There’s another dancing of dots and his phone shakes.

_you guys were really close so like...i don’t know_

_i don’t want to overstep my boundaries_

Iwaizumi snorts, and types out,

_hanamaki being careful about overstepping boundaries? i guess anyone can mature with time_

There’s a pause before anything appears on his screen. And then the response lands with a dead weight,

_I’m being serious._

Iwaizumi feels a bit sick and puts his phone down. He lies back into his couch, letting the cushions take him in. He sighs.

 _What the hell am I going to do with you, Oikawa,_ he thinks to himself.

And he can’t help the lazy half smile on his tired face because it used to be such a familiar thought. The kind of phrase that popped into his head back in high school when he would catch the fool overworking himself, the kind of phrase that came to him when he had to drag his charming ass back to practice and away from his fan club, the kind of phrase that playfully skirted his brain when Oikawa peppered him with kisses all over his face when he was in a particularly grumpy mood.

And he’s grinning now, his head still heavy from the alcohol, but lost in a happy memory. A memory, he remembers. A distant, decade old memory. He lets out another sigh and rubs at his face. Oikawa is back, and he can’t keep him at a distance anymore. He has to face him. It’s the mature thing to do. But he’s not sure how to broach the subject. How to put to rest ten years worth of resentment so he can get his best friend back into his life.

He thinks back to Oikawa’s original request, at the doctors: a cup of coffee to catch up. To remember how they clicked so well. To recall the happier times and maybe start a new. He’ll have to mull it over.

He turns his head and catches sight of his bookshelf. It’s filled with DVDs, mostly animated features. They’re all Kaede’s favorites. She had grown to be a great movie buff recently, an expert in the Lion King to be exact. In that, Iwaizumi would be forced to watch the movie over and over again whenever she was around.

He misses her.

He wonders what she’s doing right now.

* * *

 

Oikawa sighs as his phone buzzes again, refusing to look at it. Ushijima had been incessant the past few days, sending him messages every day. Oikawa had not read a single one. Hadn’t since he’d seen Iwaizumi outside the bar a few days ago. He refused.

So he ignores his cell, typing up his report from the comfort of his couch. 

That is, until he realizes his phone is continuously buzzing, meaning he’s receiving a call not a text. _Was Ushijima calling him now?_ But that can’t be. Ushijima hated talking on the phone more than anything. Oikawa purses his lips and grabs the phone, sliding it open, “Hello?”

“Oikawa?”

Oikawa blinks, the grip on his cell phone tightening as he takes in a sharp breath, “Yes?” Because a part of him doesn’t believe the voice he’s hearing is real.

“It’s Iwaizumi.”

Oikawa straightens himself up, closing his laptop, “I thought it was.” He replies, nibbling on his lip.

“It’s about this weekend--“

“You remembered?” Oikawa blurts out, reddening a little. He squirms on his couch, pulling the pillow behind him out to hold against his chest instead. Because Iwaizumi was very drunk at the time, and the promise had come out of no where. He hadn’t expected anything to come of it.

“I remembered.” Iwaizumi responds after a second. There’s a pause, and Oikawa doesn’t know how to fill it. But he waits, patiently, for Iwaizumi to continue, “Are you free Friday afternoon?”

“Let me check.” Oikawa pulls the phone away from his ear to check on his schedule. It’s blessedly clear, “Yes! I can do then!”

“Ok. Do you want to go grab coffee? And...and catch up I guess?”

“I would really love that, Iwaizumi.” Oikawa answers, feeling giddy, and hopeful. For the first time in a long time.

“Don’t.” Comes the sudden response.

Oikawa’s heart falls, and he wonders if he’s said something wrong. “Don’t?” He repeats, voice a bit strained.

“Don’t call me that.” Iwaizumi clarifies, clearing his throat, “It doesn’t sound right from you.” Oikawa can hear him swallow from the other line, “I have to go. I’ll see you Friday. Bye.”

Iwaizumi hangs up.

Oikawa looks at his phone, biting his lip, “Iwa-chan.” He whispers to himself.

He sees he has twenty unread messages in his text app. He opens it up and deletes the conversation with Ushijima without sparing a glance. He grips his phone and feels his lips stretch up into a smile, “Iwa-chan.” He repeats, louder.

He drops his phone onto the couch cushion in favor of taking hold of the pillow on his chest and squeezing it tightly. “ _Iwa-chan_.” He says it again, louder and with the lightest of laughs tinging its corners.

Because, my God, had he missed saying that name.

* * *

“Hey.” Oikawa greets, walking over to the little two person table in the coffeeshop. Iwaizumi looks up at him, hands tensing around his phone.

“Hey.” He repeats back awkwardly, setting his phone down. Oikawa places his messenger bag down beside the empty chair, taking off his jacket. Iwaizumi gets up because he had decided to wait to get his coffee.

They stand there, facing each other, and it’s awkward. Because there is so much to traverse, so many pitfalls to navigate to reach each other. Oikawa suddenly loses all confidence, no matter how positive the phone call had been for him.

“I’m sorry---“ Oikawa starts but Iwaizumi finds his voice then.

“Stop that.” Iwaizumi snaps, “If we’re going to move on from this you have to stop apologizing.”

Oikawa sucks in a breath but says nothing. He gives the reigns to Iwaizumi. He’d fuck it up somehow anyway. He always does.

“We need some ground rules,” Iwaizumi continues, keeping his gaze level, “Number 1, no more apologizing. Number 2, no more secrets.” He pauses.

“Number 3?” Oikawa probes.

Iwaizumi shrugs, “To be determined when we get there. Come on, lets grab a drink.”

Oikawa nods, and theres a slight smile on his features. Iwaizumi tries to ignore it. It’s the first real smile of Oikawa’s he’s seen in a decade. It stirs things in him. He orders a cappuccino; Oikawa orders some frilly frappucino after chatting up the lady at the cashier. Some things really don’t change.

When they sit back down, the tension seems to lessen.

“So, rule number 2 is no more secrets, right?” Oikawa repeats, leaning a bit forward, “Does that mean I can ask you questions?”

“As long as I can ask you questions right back.” Iwaizumi reasons, not one to back down-- _especially_ from Oikawa Tooru.

“Deal.” Oikawa’s smile spreads, “You first.”

Iwaizumi looks at him a moment, sizing him up, “Why are you back in Japan?”

Oikawa is ready. He drums his fingers on the table as he answers, “I accepted a consultant position in a big company here in Japan, which is what I’ve been doing in New York for the past few years.” He decides to play fair and asks, “So, you’re a nurse?”

“Yeah. I work full-time at that clinic you visited.” Iwaizumi nods. He wonders how Oikawa got into consulting. Where did the leap come from. Although, he knew more than anyone how incredibly smart, observant and calculating Oikawa could be. He guesses it’s not so farfetched. He takes a sip of his coffee, ”What was your major in college?”

“Marketing.” Oikawa hesitates before finishing, “With a minor in Astronomy...For fun.” Oikawa tugs at a strand of hair framing his face. Iwaizumi feels his heart squeezing at the motion, and he grips his cup tighter. Oikawa looks at him and starts testing the waters, “How old is Kaede?”

Iwaizumi swallows, but doesn’t waver, “She’s almost six.” He takes a deep breath and dives in, “What do you text Ushijima?”

The smile falters on Oikawa’s face but he doesn’t run away. Although, his eyes fall to the table as if he can’t look Iwaizumi in the eye as he speaks, “I only text him for booty calls. Sometimes he texts me to bother me about something and I ignore him. That’s honestly about it. I haven’t spoken to him since I got back here.”

Iwaizumi nods slowly, drinking some of his coffee. Oikawa mirrors him. They’re quiet for a bit, until Iwaizumi speaks up, “It’s your turn.”

Oikawa had been hesitating, but he takes the reminder to blurt out, “What was your ex-wife like?”

Iwaizumi puts his cup down and Oikawa is terrified that he’s going to leave. That he went to far. But Iwaizumi stays. Because that’s what Iwaizumi does. He stays.

“Her name is Hamasaki Kotori. I met her my senior year of college. We dated for a while and she got pregnant and we decided to get married. We divorced three years ago. We’re still good friends. We just didn’t...work that way, is all.” Iwaizumi explains, his voice like a longwinded sigh.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Oikawa murmurs into his frappucino because it’s all he can really say. But then he looks up wide eyed, “Shit, did I break Rule number 1? Does that count?”

Iwaizumi can’t help but let out a laugh at his panicked face, “You’re fine.” He assures easily, and the smile stays on his face.

Oikawa smiles a little himself and plays with the paper wrapper around his cup.

“Tell me about America.”

Oikawa looks up, pausing in his fidgeting, “That’s too broad. Give me a more specific question.”

Iwaizumi shakes his head, “It’s not a question. I just want to hear about the last ten years.” He hesitates a moment before adding, “It’s weird not being the resident expert on Oikawa Tooru.”

Oikawa’s eyes _shine_ and it looks like he’s about to cry. Iwaizumi prays to God he doesn’t start that in the middle of the cafe again. But Oikawa seems to hold himself together, and his smile is so wide as he starts telling stories about his team and their victories and their silly pranks and their cross country adventures.

It soon becomes an actual conversation with the pair excitedly going back and forth, sharing memories and jokes and stories. At one point Iwaizumi has dragged his chair over to sit beside Oikawa in order for them to start sharing photographs and videos on their laptops.

They spend two hours in that coffee shop.

“Ok, who helped you pick out the tux?” Oikawa asks playfully, zooming in on one of his wedding photos.

“I got my own tux.” Iwaizumi insists defensively, smacking the other’s hand away.

“Now, now Iwa-chan, you and I both know you don’t have a single fashionable bone in your body.” Oikawa tuts, looking closely at the photograph, “It was that refreshing Karasuno guy wasn’t it?”

“Fuck off.” Iwaizumi glowers and Oikawa laughs. “You’re such a menace.” Iwaizumi huffs, glancing at the time. His eyes widen, “I have to pick up Kaede from school.” He remarks suddenly. Oikawa quiets down then, as Iwaizumi starts collecting his things.

He looks back at the wedding photos, swiping through them idly, less animated, more solemn. He doesn’t mean to say it out loud, but the words pass through his lips like a heavy sigh, “I missed so much.”

Iwaizumi nudges his shoulder with his arm.

Oikawa looks over at him and can’t help continuing, “I missed _you_ so much.”

Iwaizumi feels his heart hammering in his chest and his palms sweat. And he’s always been so weak to Oikawa. And there’s a lot he wants to say but can’t. So instead of responding, he blurts out, “Do you want to go to the zoo tomorrow?”

It’s nothing Oikawa expects. He blinks, “Huh?”

Iwaizumi feels his face reddening but tries to ignore it, pushing through, “I’m going to the zoo Saturday with Kaede. Do you want to join?”

Oikawa licks his dry lips, “Uh...Yeah. Yeah, I’ll come! If...If it’s not a problem.”

“It’s not.” Iwaizumi assures, getting up from his seat. Oikawa stands up too then. He wants to hug him. He wants to wrap him up in his arms as tight as he can to show him he’s here now. He’s here and he’s not going to leave again. Never again. To convey everything he can’t with words.

But he doesn’t.

Iwaizumi leaves.

Oikawa sits down and thinks about tomorrow.

* * *

 

“What’s your goal here?”

“I don’t have a goal.” Iwaizumi responds, alone in his kitchen. He just put Kaede to bed and would rather not wake her up.

“So you don’t want to get back together?” Sugawara probes from the other line, having taken the phone from Daichi as soon as Iwaizumi had called. Iwaizumi had been procrastinating this conversation for almost a week for this very reason. He was in no mood to be psycho-analyzed.

Iwaizumi swallows, “I don’t know.” He answers honestly. He lets out a sigh, leaning his side on the counter.

“When he first reappeared you sounded livid.” Sugawara reminds carefully. As if the memory _isn’t_ fresh in Iwaizumi’s mind.

“I was.” Iwaizumi confirms.

“You were?”

“I am.” Iwaizumi clarifies, frowning, “I still am. Mad.”

“You are?”

“I don’t know.” Iwaizumi groans, “How can I not be mad? How can I ever not be upset about what he did?”

“So you haven’t forgiven him.”

“No. I haven’t.”

“Will you ever?”

Iwaizumi swallows again, “I don’t know.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know.” Sugawara comments, pursing his lips, “If you’re not gonna forgive him how can you be his friend? How can you be more than his friend?”

Iwaizumi grits his teeth because he _knows_ Sugawara is right, “You don’t get it.”

“What don’t I get?”

Iwaizumi rubs his hand over his face and doesn’t answer.

He takes in a shaky breath,

“I missed him _so much_.”

* * *

Oikawa meets them at the zoo in the late morning light. He waves at them, a little hop in his step. Again, the urge to hug Iwaizumi is undeniable, but he refrains. He makes his smile tighter. Iwaizumi comes over, Kaede in his arms, looking unhappy.

“I’m sorry we’re late.” Iwaizumi begins, “ _Someone_ was being a little difficult this morning.” Kaede frowns deeper, squirming in her father’s hold.

He puts her down carefully, “Dad, you didn’t do my hair.” She whines, bouncing on her feet. She’s holding out a hair tie; it has a cute little giraffe charm on it. Oikawa hides his smile behind his hand.

“Just a minute, Kaede.” Iwaizumi sighs, “I have to go get our passes. You want to see the animals, right?” Kaede crosses her arms petulantly. Iwaizumi looks up at Oikawa, “Could you watch her for a minute while I get our tickets?”

“Of course!” Oikawa brushes off, easily, “How much do I owe you?”

But Iwaizumi is already trotting away, waving off the request. 

Oikawa looks over at Kaede, still visibly upset. He kneels down to her height and she acknowledges his presence for the first time, “Why are you here?”

Oikawa twitches, “Your father invited me.”

Kaede huffs, “Don’t make Dad sad, Mr. Famous Guy. Or I’ll kick you again.” She squints at him with a tough frown.

Oikawa blinks at the threat as she glares up at him with her dark brown eyes, her scruffy dark eyebrows furrowed tightly and she looks just like her father did, years and years ago. Oikawa swallows. He decides not to question why she would think he would make her father upset, instead focusing on another point, “My name is Oikawa.” He introduces.

She furrows her brows even further--it _must_ be an Iwaizumi thing, “O-okawa-san?” She tries, mouth struggling around the diphthong despite her best efforts.

Oikawa giggles, and Kaede reddens. He takes mercy, “My first name is Tooru.”

“Toowu-san?” She repeats, and frowns even more, looking cross. Oikawa can’t help the smile on his face. She huffs, “How about Too-san*?”

It’s Oikawa’s turn to redden. He laughs it off, “I don’t think your father would like that.” He murmurs. She blinks at him, and so he continues, “What about Kawa-san?”

“Kawa-san.” Kaede says, “Kawa-san.” She says again, giving it another try. She nods her head.

“And I’ll call you Kae-chan.”

Kaede reddens once more, glaring fiercely at the man, “It’s Kaede!” She insists, stomping a foot down for added measure. And it’s absolutely adorable.

“Can I call you Kae-chan if I do your hair?” Oikawa wagers, with a grin. Kaede blinks again, looking at her hair tie and then back at Oikawa. “I’m _much_ better at hair than your father. I mean, look at me.” Kaede does, examining him critically. She even reaches out a hand to touch his hair, which nearly gives Oikawa a heart attack because he can’t stand people messing up his hair. But he swallows it down, and lets her tug at the strands.

“Ok.” She says after a moment, handing him the tie and turning around. “Can you give me a ponytail, please?”

“Of course, Kae-chan.”

He can hear her little huff but can’t see her expression. He takes her hair gently, pulling it back and slipping it into a high ponytail. He spins her back around and fiddles with her bangs, pulling free some of the longer strands in order to frame her face better. She lets him, enjoying the pampering.

Oikawa quite likes it too. Like playing with a doll his parents would never buy him.

He offers his phone to her so she can examine herself in the front face camera. Her eyes widen, and she keeps staring at herself as her father makes her way back over

“Hey!” Iwaizumi calls over, a bit winded, “Sorry that took so long, but we can, uh, go in now.”

“You worry too much.” Oikawa waves easily. He notices how Iwaizumi’s face seems to crinkle at the remark.

“Daddy, look!” Kaede says excitedly, face brightening completely. She almost drops the phone in her excitement but Oikawa catches it quickly. Children can’t be trusted with electronics, he notes in his mind. “Kawa-san did my hair!”

Iwaizumi blinks, and he smiles at her, “Kawa-san?” He gives Oikawa a sidelong glance before looking back at his daughter, “You look beautiful.” She reddens and grins, hugging him around the neck as he picks her up. “Sorry for being so cranky earlier.” He apologizes, to both of them. Oikawa waves him off. “Alright, where’s our first stop, Kaede?”

“Giraffes!” She commands, pointing out heroically towards the entrance.

“Of course, of course.” Iwaizumi agrees.

Oikawa follows beside them, keeping to himself. He does his best not to be a bother as they head over to the exhibits. Despite Kaede’s command for giraffes, she is easily distracted by every animal they come across. She squirms out of her father’s hands in order to scamper up to the bars of every single enclosure, pointing and shouting. The men do their best to keep up. Iwaizumi adamant about keeping her in eyesight. Oikawa adamant about not bumping into Iwaizumi by accident.

“I’m not made of glass, you know?” Iwaizumi mentions at one point, as Kaede wonders at the size of elephants in front of them. Oikawa tilts his head. Iwaizumi sighs, nudging him with his shoulder, “I won’t die if you bump into me.”

Oikawa blinks and smiles sheepishly, nudging right back, “Force of habit.”

Iwaizumi raises his brow, “Since when has Oikawa Tooru understood the concept of personal space?”

 _Since I broke your heart_ , Oikawa wants to say. But he knows it’s against the rules. And it’s no good, bringing that up here. So instead he forces out a playful grin, “Sorry, sorry, Iwa-chan. I didn’t realize you were craving my attention! I’ll do better from now on.”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, punching him in the shoulder. Oikawa pretends it hurts more than it does, letting out a whine and showing off a pout. Iwaizumi ignores him, and it’s almost like they’re 17 again.

“Dad! Dad! Look! Giraffes!” Kaede calls, bounding over to them and taking his hand. She drags them over to the exhibit after spotting it. It’s crowded, but Kaede easily weasels her small body to the railing. However, its not enough to satiate her and she soon returns to their sides.

“I can’t see.” She whines, frowning, “All I see is their legs.”

“You want me to hoist you up?” Iwaizumi offers, already extending out his hands to pick her up.

Kaede squints at them and shakes her head, “I want Kawa-san to lift me up.”

Both adults blink, “Why not me?” Iwaizumi asks, slightly offended.

Kaede starts making grabby hands at Oikawa and hopping up and down on her little legs, “Kawa-san is taller than you, Daddy.” She replies matter of factly.

It’s a mortal blow.

Oikawa starts snickering.

Iwaizumi wants to kill him.

Kaede is impatient, “Kawa-san, _please.”_

 _“_ Yes, yes, Kae-chan.” Oikawa crouches down with a sing song voice. Picking her up and placing her on his shoulders. He straightens up, and she giggles as she rises up in the air. She grips onto his hair, for purchase, much to Oikawa’s chagrin. He doesn’t comment but rather tries to get her to a better vantage point.

“Can you see them?” He asks, after a moment.

“Yes! They’re so cute!” Kaede exclaims, squeezing the brown strands in her tiny fists, “Did you know that giraffes have blue tongues? Look, you can see them!”

Iwaizumi, despite his wounded pride, can’t help but smile at them.

Later on they take a break, sitting in the shade at one of the picnic tables. Kaede runs off to the ice cream vendor a few feet away, insisting she can purchase her treat herself. Iwaizumi watches her like a hawk. She succeeds in her endeavor, coming back over with her ice cream prize. Iwaizumi goes back to the vendor because she forgot to grab the change and napkins.

“What’s next, Kae-chan?” Oikawa asks, as she messily eats her strawberry cone.

Kaede purses her lips, “I wanna see the crocodiles.” And she snaps her teeth shut twice for effect. He laughs and pulls out the map to find out where they are.

“Kaede, you have ice cream all over your face.” Iwaizumi frowns, taking a napkin and dabbing at her face as she whines.

“I can do it!” She finally wrestles free, taking the napkin and wiping her face herself. Iwaizumi sighs and leans back. Oikawa smiles at him.

Iwaizumi looks over at him, “You look hilarious, by the way.”

Oikawa blinks, fumbles for his phone and sees his hair has gone awry, most likely due to Kaede’s powerful grip. He fiddles with it, biting his lip, and realizes there isn’t much he can do to salvage the situation. He runs his fingers through his hair, pushing it back and letting it bounce into a somewhat nicer position. He puts his phone away.

He finds Iwaizumi watching him, “Hmm?”

“You didn’t cry.” Iwaizumi points out, “You usually cry if you’re hair is a strand out of place.”

Oikawa splutters, “I’m older now, Iwa-chan. I’ve grown.”

Iwaizumi raises a brow.

Oikawa huffs, “I don’t want to make a big deal of it in front of Kae-chan.”

Iwaizumi looks away, back at Kaede, who is busy on the other side of the table looking over the map critically. Her ice cream is dripping all over her hand and the map. It’s beyond hope at this point, “Thanks, by the way.”

“For what?”

“For being so good with her.” Iwaizumi murmurs softly, “I was worried you wouldn’t get along.”

Oikawa blinks, “Why wouldn’t we get along?”

Iwaizumi looks at him, “You hate kids, Oikawa.”

Oikawa snorts, “They’re awful.” He agrees readily, “But I make exceptions. I like Kaede.” Iwaizumi tries to hide his smile. “I’ve always been partial to Iwaizumi children.” Oikawa adds, nudging him with his elbow.

Iwaizumi looks away, in an attempt to hide his full blown grin.

The rest of the day is spent in a happy lull. They see the crocodiles, the bears, the tigers and the bats. Iwaizumi even convinces Oikawa into going into the bird cage with Kaede to feed the birds. Oikawa screams the whole time, despite himself. Iwaizumi’s able to snap a picture just as the birds descend upon Oikawa’s hair.

He immediately changes his lock screen to the new image, before Oikawa can stop him. Kaede looks adorable in it anyway, smiling with a bird perched on her arm. 

When they’ve finished their outing, Iwaizumi insists on driving Oikawa back to his apartment. Once they reach his stop, Oikawa steps out of the car.

“I’m free again next week.” Iwaizumi says, not moving from his seat at the wheel. Oikawa’s heart skips a beat and his face blossoms with another smile.

“Text me.” Oikawa says. He bites his lip a moment before adding, “I promise I’ll respond.”

“Kawa-san wait!” Kaede suddenly shouts, clawing at the window opener. Iwaizumi helps her out with the button from the driver’s side, and Oikawa peeks over at the girl. She squeezes her little giraffe plushie she’d gotten at the park and looks away, “I’m sorry...that I kicked you before.”

Oikawa blinks and then smiles, “It’s alright Kae-chan! No need to worry about that.”

He waves at them as they drive off. He stands there for a bit, at the curb, feeling giddy. Feeling _happy_. He touches his face. It’s stretched and sore.

He hasn’t smiled so much in _years_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Too-san sounds like dad in Japanese and thats too much for Oikawa lol
> 
> see i can do fluff
> 
> I HOPE Y'ALL ENJOY! 
> 
> see you next time c:


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> you lie and lie and lie until it's just too much

“Thank you for letting me stay the week, Uncle.” Takeru bows his head at the airport. Oikawa scoffs, patting his head and ruffling his hair. Taleru isn’t very amused by this.

“Anytime, Take-chan.” Oikawa insists with a smile, “I love the free labor.”

Takeru rolls his eyes, re-adjusting the strap of his messenger bag, “Aren’t you an adult now? Shouldn’t you know how to make your own bed?” He huffs. The pair take a sidestep as a business woman rushes past them toward the check-in counter. Takeru has already checked in for his flight.

“As an adult, I don’t have time for such simple chores.” Oikawa explains easily with a little wave of his hand.

“All you do is watch Netflix.” Takeru counters with a frown, “And go to work sometimes.”

Oikawa tuts, “I’m at work all morning. You just wouldn’t wake up until noon.”

Takeru purses his lips and grabs at the handle of his luggage. Oikawa knows he’s stalling. He has time until his flight, but he still needs to go through security. He wishes the boy would just come out with it.

“Uncle,” Takeru begins, and his hand squeezes the handle tightly, “When are you coming home?”

There it is. Oikawa knew it. It was probably his sister’s doing. His entire family had been pestering him for months now to at least come and visit. And Oikawa knows it’s a reasonable request but he _can’t_. There’s a wall between him and Japan greater than any ocean. He’s not sure he can cross--can _ever_ cross it. He’d been running for so long he’s not sure how to stop.

He forces on a pleasant smile, “Well, I’ll be going home as soon as you leave me here.”

Takeru scowls at him, “That’s not what I meant.” He mutters, “You know what I meant.”

Oikawa shifts his weight slightly onto his other leg, “I’ll visit Japan at some point. I’m really busy right now, is all.” He lies.

“I saw the e-mail.” Takeru suddenly blurts out, frowning deeply, “I saw the e-mail you keep ignoring.”

Oikawa feigns ignorance, “What are you talking about?” There’s prickling inside his lungs and he wants the conversation to end.

“The e-mail offering you a job in Japan. A better job. The deadline to accept is a week from now. You should take it.” The teen is looking at the ground, hand squeezing and unsqueezing the handle of his luggage to the beat of his racing heart.

Oikawa grits his teeth but he keeps his mouth closed to hide it, “You shouldn’t go through people’s things, Take-chan. You can go to jail for that, you know.”

Takeru lets out a growl, “I’m not a kid anymore, Uncle! I’m being _serious_.”

Oikawa frowns, eyes narrowing, “You _are_ a kid.”

“I’m seventeen.” Takeru snaps back looking up finally, as if to prove a point. But Oikawa is still taller than him by a few inches and it only makes him feel small.

“Seventeen year olds don’t know anything.” Oikawa bites back and even he can tell its a bit harsh. But it’s true. It’s the truest thing he’s said in a while.

Takeru growls under his breath, impatience leaking through him, “Mom’s worried about you. And Grandma misses you. And--“

“And?”

Takeru glares at him, “You’re so annoying!” He huffs, “Why don’t you want to come home? Do you hate us? Is that it?”

“I don’t hate any of you.” Oikawa responds immediately, “Why would you think that?”

“Because you’re not _there_.” Takeru insists, “You’ve never been to a single one of my volleyball matches. We might even go to nationals this year but you don’t even _care_. Are you even going to come to my graduation next year?”

Oikawa feels his hands ball into fists, “I’m sorry, Take-chan. Things are complicated right now.” He lies. He just keeps lying and lying and lying.

“They’re really not.” Takeru spits back, “You should take the job.” He fidgets a second, frowning at the ground. He bows again, for good measure, “Thanks again for letting me stay so long. I’ll call you when I land.” And he spins around, heading toward his terminal. Conversation over.

Oikawa takes in a breath, combing a hand through his brown locks. Because his nephew is right. It _is_ simple. He could just take the job and go back. He could stop running away from this festering problem. But even his nephew’s righteous anger and disappointment isn’t enough to help him cross the bridge.

But it does push him towards the sea.

* * *

It had been a couple years since he had last seen Ushijima Wakatoshi. So it’s a surprise when he bumps into him at the metro on the way back from the airport. His nephew’s words still ring in his ears so he decides to tolerate the man before him. He’d rather not spend the rest of the evening feeling melancholy in his apartment.

Ushijima starts speaking to him, and Oikawa only half listens. Something about his volleyball team and nationals, something about his parent’s wishes, something about going back to Japan for his annual visit, something about a woman he has to meet, something about visiting Shiratorizawa as an honored alumni.

Oikawa tries to listen at first, he really does. But Ushijima’s voice is so monotonous and it drones on with little inflection, until it mixes with the humdrum of the train moving them across the city. He could sleep to this. But he doesn’t want to. And when Ushijima pauses his talk as Oikawa’s stop appears, Oikawa waves him to continue.

“Do you want to grab a drink?” Oikawa asks, when the train starts moving again but before Ushijima can start rambling once more. Ushijima blinks and looks at his watch.

“I suppose I can.” He agrees after a moment and Oikawa grins. Because _do you want to grab a drink_ means a lot more than that when it’s between Ushijima and him. And he hasn’t had much success in that department in recent months. He’d been growing a bit tired of the party scene. He was twenty-eight now, and thirty lay on the horizon. It was a bit terrifying to think about.

Oikawa had never been a fan of aging.

They get off at Ushijima’s stop, but head the opposite way to the bar Oikawa had grown quite fond of. They step into the warm lighting and take a seat at the bar. Oikawa notices Ushijima’s a bit more guarded than normal. A bit stiffer. Or maybe he’s just older, and his joints don’t move as well. Nothing a few drinks wouldn’t fix, he thinks.

“And what have you been doing, since we spoke last?” Ushijima asks, and Oikawa blinks. Because its too early in the night to start spilling his guts to his rival. And he’s still very sober.

He takes a sip of his drink, “I got a job as a consultant for a corporation around here. It’s fun, pays well.”

Ushijima nods slowly, “So you have stopped playing volleyball?”

Oikawa tightens his grip on his drink, “For now.” He lies-- _more lies_. Because he knows he’ll never be able to play again, or at least, play like he did. Not with his knee how it is. The pain is dull but it flares up every now again. Enough that he has to keep his brace around; he can’t just pack it away and forget about it. He never knows when he’ll need to wear it again.

It’s a reminder of all his mistakes.

He finishes a drink, “Who knows what the future holds?” He continues, forcing on a grin.

Ushijima seems to accept this with another nod, taking his own drink. Oikawa feels his mouth twitch. Because it’s why he _hates_ Ushijima and also _likes_ talking to him. Because the fool accepts everything at face value. He doesn’t dig. He assumes the truth.

With Iwaizumi, Iwaizumi always _knew_ when Oikawa was lying, or hiding something, or only saying things to please him. He knew how to scrape at Oikawa’s edges, to push him until he finally let go, and vented-- _really_ vented. And Oikawa hated that about Iwaizumi but he also _loved_ it. Because a lot of times he simply said things for appearances, begging someone to just look a little closer and see his cry for help.

Maybe this is one of those times.

He orders another drink.

“Anything else occur?” Ushijima continues, as he downs a drink.

“My nephew visited me for the week. I took him around the sites of the city.” Oikawa recounts, “Hadn’t seen him since his last visit when he was twelve...” He trails off.

“How old is he now?” Ushijima brings him back.

“Seventeen...” Oikawa sighs, holding his head up with his hand, “Time goes by so fast.”

Ushijima nods sagely at that, “Our last high school match was when we were seventeen.” He comments. Because Ushijima can only go so long before his mind returns to the sport. Oikawa hums an agreement, ordering a third drink. Ushijima continues, “You lost.”

“I know.” Oikawa snaps, because it may have been ten years but the wound still feels fresh.

“Did you ever beat me?” Ushijima wonders, and Oikawa feels his hand ball into a fist.

“No.” Oikawa growls, “I never did.”

“If only--“

“If you tell me I should have gone to Shiratorizawa one more time I’m leaving this bar and you’re paying my tab.” Oikawa shoots back coldly.

Ushijima blinks, “Do I say it often?”

“Literally every time we hang out.” Oikawa huffs.

“I apologize. I did not realize it offended you.”

“Oh my god.” Oikawa groans, rubbing his face, “How do you _not_ realize that?”

“You never said anything. Until now. Or at least, I don’t recall you ever-“

“Ug, it’s _fine_. Let’s move on.” Oikawa hurries, swirling his cup because he’s feeling fidgety.

Ushijima frowns, “You are upset.”

“I’m not upset.”

“You are lying.”

Oikawa decides not to respond, having the bartender pour him another drink. He still has too much control over his motor skills. And cognitive skills. He doesn’t want to talk about himself. Or his emotions. He doesn’t even want to _think_ anymore.

Ushijima doesn’t get the memo--he never does--and continues, “You are more upset every time I see you. But you are better at hiding it every time as well. However, you never wish to talk about it. How am I to help you, then?”

“I didn’t _ask_ for your help!” Oikawa suddenly shouts, gritting his teeth.

Ushijima blinks, furrowing his brows at him.

Oikawa feels bad, a bit. He quiets down, “Look, I just...want to take my mind off things. I just want to drink a bit. Let’s...talk about something else.”

Ushijima acquiesces.

It takes a lot longer than usual. Oikawa is _very_ drunk by the time they stumble out the door and Ushijima isn’t fairing much better. Usually Oikawa tries to be a little classier with these escapades, but he’s too far gone for that. He’s a giggling mess as he leans heavily on Ushijima, sucking at his neck and running his hands all over his firm torso as the man fiddles with the key to his apartment.

Oikawa knows Ushijima’s apartment setup intimately. He easily pushes them toward the bedroom and shoves Ushijima onto the bed. He vividly remembers crawling onto of him, leaning down to messily unbutton his shirt. And then it begins to get foggy. His memory swirls. It’s wet, and he’s trembling and he remembers Ushijima’s steady hands on his face. But he doesn’t remember much after that.

He wakes up to Ushijima nudging him. Oikawa squints at him and groans, flipping over and trying to pull the covers over his head.

“Oikawa.” Ushijima says, and his tone is insistent. Oikawa doesn’t understand why this is happening. His head his pounding. He feels sick. He needs to sleep.

“Oikawa, you should leave.” Ushijima continues.

“I _just_ woke up.” Oikawa growls, sitting up and rubbing his forehead, “Give me a minute, God.” He squints at him because the room is too bright, and his eyes are burning. They crackle at the edges from dried up sleep. More than usual.

“This should not have happened.” Ushijima continues, frowning deeply. Oikawa notices he’s fully dressed. Or...In pajamas? A gray flannel shirt and matching pants. He blinks. He’s never seen Ushijima’s pajamas. He’d always woken up to him either naked beside him, or already dressed for the day.

“I’ll go in a minute. Why the rush?” Oikawa glowers, because Ushijima is rude but he’s never _this_ rude. Even when he needs to leave he would usually let Oikawa sleep in.

“I don’t want this to continue any further.” Ushijima states, keeping off the bed. Oikawa notices his side of the bed is perfectly made. And that’s _never_ happened before.

“What’s going on?” Oikawa starts, anxiety prickling in the pit of his stomach, “Something’s off.”

“You were very upset last night.” Ushijima explains, “You would not stop crying. I was afraid things would get too out of a hand. We were both very drunk. Luckily, we didn’t go all the way.”

“What are you talking about?” Oikawa huffs, pressing a hand to his forehead, “So, we didn’t have sex, is what you’re saying?” He surmises, from the information. He tries to ignore the part about him crying. He’d rather forget that.

“Thankfully.” Ushijima nods.

“What the _fuck_?” Oikawa snaps, squinting at him in non-understanding, “The whole point _was_ to have sex.”

Ushijima stares at him, “I do not understand. But I am engaged?”

Everything stops in that moment.

Oikawa’s world stops making sense.

 _Ushijima Wakatoshi is engaged_.

“You’re _engaged!?_ ” Oikawa shouts, despite how the words ring in his pulsing head. He grips the sheets around, as if he needs an anchor in a world turned upside down.

“I...I told you I was engaged on the train?” Ushijima reminds, furrowing his brow, “I have yet to meet her in person. She is in Japan. It was set up by my mother? Do you not recall the conversation?”

Oikawa feels sick. He wants to vomit. He needs to vomit. He holds it in.

“But you agreed to go out to drinks!?” Oikawa continues, spluttering. This is too much. Everything is too much.

“Yes.” Ushijima agrees, “Because I had not seen you in two years and wished to catch up.”

“But we _always_ have sex when we ‘go out to drinks’.” Oikawa insists, pleadingly.

Ushijima blinks, “We do not.” He mutters, and then squints in thought, “Do we?”

“ _Yes!_ That’s the whole point!” Oikawa cries out, pulling at his hair, “Why _else_ would we?”

Ushijima looks taken aback, “Because we are friends?”

Oikawa holds his face in his hands, because he can’t say anything. Because nothing makes sense in this whole God damn universe except for one thing. And one thing only.

“I’m a _horrible_ person.” He whispers, mostly to himself.

“You said that, last night.” Ushijima comments, “You should not say that.”

“I got you to cheat on your fiancée.” _I’ve been using you this whole time._

“But that is my fault. I will talk to her. In fact, I have already informed her of the events. We have to discuss it more, but it has nothing to do with you anymore so do not worry.”

Oikawa stares at him, mouth agape, “You _told_ her?”

“Of course.”

Oikawa takes in a shaky breath, “Why?” _How?_

“It was the correct thing to do.”

Oikawa wonders what it would be like to be Ushijima. Where things are so simple. Where right and wrong is clear, and silly emotions and self doubt have no bearing on decisions. Where guilt and self-hatred don’t pool together in a cesspool of inner turmoil.

“I’m a horrible person.” Oikawa repeats again, and his mind starts working a mile a minute, trying to catch up, “I need to leave. I can’t be here. I can’t be near you. I...I can’t _stand_ you.”

Ushijima looks at him, “Does this have to do with Iwaizumi?”

Oikawa pales, “What are you talking about?”

“You spoke of him a lot, last night. When you were crying. He is engaged, too, correct? Is that why you were adamant about sleeping with me?”

Oikawa rips the sheets off him, “Iwaizumi Hajime has _nothing_ to do with this!”

“Why are you so upset? I will handle everything.”

But Oikawa is already grabbing at his discarded clothes and shoving them on and smashing through the door.

Because the insinuation he would gladly ruin Iwaizumi’s happy marriage for his own selfish reasons is too much for him to bear.

Because the fact that Ushijima Wakatoshi is a better human being than he could ever be is too much for him to bear.

Because no matter how hard Oikawa tries, Ushijima is always, _always_ better than him, in every single way.

And it’s just _too_ _much._

* * *

That night, Oikawa accepts the position in Japan.

That night, Oikawa informs the landlord he’ll be moving out immediately.

That night, Oikawa makes plans to sell all his furniture.

That night, Oikawa buys his plane ticket.

That night, Oikawa sits at his computer and types up ten years worth of apologies in a two page email addressed to Iwaizumi Hajime. His keyboard is tear stained, his fingers shaky, but he types well into the night until the morning light dances across his face.

That night, he does not send the e-mail. He simply saves it.

He’ll send it at the airport and make everything right again.

Somehow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is kinda meh but necessary
> 
> also thank you guys for being so supportive and nice to me!!! ur comments always brighten my day ahhh
> 
> i hope you enjoy!
> 
> c:


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I want to forgive you, more than anything.

“Iwa-chan, why don’t you keep any milk bread in your house?” Oikawa whines poking his head out of the pantry. Iwaizumi looks over at him with a disinterested expression.

“Buy it yourself.”

“Iwa-chan is a terrible host.” Oikawa sighs, settling for some chocolate chip cookies to satiate his ravenous sweet tooth.

“Get out of my house, then.” Iwaizumi huffs, flicking his eyes back to the paused T.V. They’re about to watch one of the new Godzilla movies that Iwaizumi had been wanting to watch for years but never had the time--nor the company--for. Kaede wasn’t a fan of monster movies. Yet. He was working on it.

Oikawa throws himself onto the couch, right beside Iwaizumi. The latter growls as his glass of soda almost spills. Oikawa grins at him and Iwaizumi decides to press play anyway.

“I’m sure Kae-chan would love milk bread.” Oikawa continues, as the opening credits play.

“Kaede’s sweet tooth doesn’t need encouraging.” Iwaizumi counters, gruffly.

“How spartan! The poor girl.” Oikawa sighs, biting into a cookie. He offers one to Iwaizumi, who takes it without qualm. The pair soon settle into the movie.

It’s a Saturday night during a week when Kaede’s off at her mother’s home. Normally these weeks are lonely and quiet, with Iwaizumi tending to a house that feels much too big for just him. Usually, he tries to spend time with Daichi and Suga, but the pair had become increasingly busy with their adoption search. Iwaizumi doesn’t want to impose. They’re stressed enough as it is.

Oikawa had soon learned of these lonely weeks, and done what he does best, inject himself into the situation. Iwaizumi would never admit how thankful he is for it. Just a few months ago he had been certain he would never see his best friend’s face again.

Now he can’t keep him out of his house for longer than a day.

When the end credits begin to roll, Oikawa gets up to stretch. Iwaizumi notices how the crumbs cascade onto his floor and grimaces. Oikawa doesn’t seem to notice. Or at least, he’s very good at pretending to not.

“The original was better.” Oikawa comments, stretching his arms up high. It makes his shirt ride up, Iwaizumi notices. And can’t stop noticing.

“The original is always better.” Iwaizumi reminds, leaning back a bit on the couch.

“Touche.” Oikawa agrees before taking a glance at the clock, “Well, I guess I’m off!” He decides.

Because even though Oikawa visits his house almost every day he _never_ sleepovers. Never mentions the idea. And Iwaizumi never offers.

But it’s becoming increasingly harder not to.

“Oikawa.” Iwaizumi bites his lower lip.

“Hmm?” Oikawa hums, looking over.

Iwaizumi hesitates, “Text me when you make it back.”

Oikawa smiles, “Yes, yes, mom. I know the drill.” He teases, expertly dodging the cushion that is soon flung at him.

And it’s moments like these when Iwaizumi wants nothing more than to kiss Oikawa Tooru and never let him go again.

He refrains and watches his friend leave his home with little ceremony. He grabs his vacuum to suck up the crumbs left behind on the floor. He picks up the thrown cushion, placing it back on the couch. He flicks the T.V. off and brings the glasses back to the kitchen. Once he’s tidied up the mess Oikawa always leaves behind in his wake, he starts checking his phone.

And it’s moments like these when Iwaizumi knows he can’t kiss Oikawa Tooru.

Because the anxiety of a decade ago comes back, as he refreshes his cell. The familiar paranoia, the dread in his stomach, as nothing changes on his screen, is still incredibly raw. And he doesn’t know how to make the feelings go away. And it’s obvious in these moments he hasn’t forgiven Oikawa for what he did to him.

His screen lights up in his hands.

_Made it back! I’ll see you tomorrow!~_

Iwaizumi exhales, typing out a quick response and feeling little lighter.

* * *

 

Oikawa glances through the racks with a critical eye, occasionally pulling out a buttoned down shirt to his liking. He is in dire need of new clothes for work. He examines the shirt closely, but the texture is unappealing to his fingers so he lets it go.

He continues on in the same fashion, slowly lowering his expectations--because they could never really be satisfied--until he collects a few shirts and new pair of dress pants. Which should have ended his expedition to the department store, but Oikawa loves shopping, so he finds himself lingering.

He makes his way over to the more casual fashion in the Men’s wear section, idly looking through the graphic tees. He self indulgently selects a cute alien themed shirt--it promises to glow in the dark--and makes his way toward the cashier.

Or at least that was the plan.

But a sales sign catches his attention, and he finds himself wandering further into the store, towards the children’s section. Specifically the little girl’s section.

He thinks about the colors Kaede wears, the colors she prefers and the colors that suit her best. He bites his lip, thinking as he goes through the racks. All the items are _adorable_ to be honest, and would suit her perfectly. He wonders if Kaede likes shopping. He doubts Iwaizumi takes her out like this, because the man _hated_ clothing shopping more than anything. The times Oikawa had successfully dragged him to the mall back in High School for a much needed fashion update were few and far between.

Maybe Kaede’s mother takes her shopping.

Oikawa suddenly feels very silly, standing among the racks of pink and light blue sparkly shirts. He puts away the one he was looking at, stepping back into the walking path. Still, on his way out at the cashier, there’s a little bin of accessories. He sees a set of sparkly blue hair pins, some with little crowns on them, others plain, and others with little stars.

He hesitates a second before plucking one out and quickly adding it to the conveyor belt of purchases. The cashier doesn’t question him and Oikawa makes his way to the metro station with a little pep in his step, as if he’s hiding a secret.

Oikawa visits the Iwaizumi household that evening, as he usually does, after he’s certain Iwaizumi’s returned from work. He knocks on the door and Iwaizumi lets him in with little ceremony, looking worn out from the doctor’s office. Oikawa notices he’s ordered in. He also notices he’s ordered more than one man can eat.

“You want some?” Iwaizumi asks, as if the idea had just popped into his head. As if he’s just trying to be polite. But Oikawa notices his favorite dish among the array.

“Iwa-chan is so thoughtful.” He hums, coming over and taking a seat across from him. He tries to start eating but he’s too jumpy and has never been very patient in respect to these kinds of things, “Is Kae-chan asleep already?”

Iwaizumi blinks and frowns, “Kaede’s at Koto’s this week. Remember?”

Oikawa pauses, “Oh. Right.” And he feels quite foolish for forgetting. Iwaizumi nudges him a plate from across the table.

“Why?” He asks.

Oikawa feels his grin return to his face, “Is it alright if I give Kae-chan a gift?”

Iwaizumi snorts, “Now I have to worry about you spoiling her too? She gets enough of that from Daichi and Hanamaki.”

Oikawa chuckles, “Iwa-chan, if you’re really worried about spoiling her you should look at yourself.”

“I do not _spoil_ her.” Iwaizumi defends, taking a bite of his meal.

“The _minute_ she starts crying you give in.” Oikawa comments.

Iwaizumi glowers, “Shut up.” He snaps, because he can’t help that. He can’t bear to see her cry, “You don’t have kids you don’t know anything.”

Oikawa smiles anyway, “Yes, yes, Iwa-chan. You’re the expert.”

Iwaizumi huffs but drops the subject. They eat quietly for a moment before he interrupts again, “What kind of gift?”

Oikawa smiles sheepishly, pulling out the little pack of accessories from his messenger bag. He slides it across the table, “I saw it at the store earlier and I thought she might like them.”

Iwaizumi picks up the package and looks at it. Oikawa holds his breath in anticipation but soon Iwaizumi is _grinning_ at him, “She’ll _love_ these.”

Oikawa feels his heart hammering in his chest. He squeezes the chopsticks in his hands a bit too tightly. And he wants to kiss Iwaizumi. It’s not like its a particularly romantic moment, nor are they even seated close together. They’re simply alone in a small kitchen eating take-out together. But Oikawa’s heart squeezes so tightly and he wants to take Iwaizumi’s hand and kiss him and kiss him and _kiss_ him.

His phone buzzes and he looks over at it, sees Ushijima’s name flash on the screen, feels his heart fall into his stomach and puts his phone back into his bag and out of sight.

Iwaizumi starts talking about his day at the clinic and the moment passes.

* * *

 

The doorbell rings and Iwaizumi moves over to open it. Before he can even react, Kaede is rushing into the home shouting about all the things that had occurred during her week away. Standing calmly at the doorstep is Hamasaki, Kaede’s luggage beside her.

“Hey.” She greets with a smile.

Iwaizumi smiles back, “Come in. What’s the update?”

Hamasaki steps into the home, leaning against a wall by the little kitchen, “She started drawing recently. I got her a big box of markers and she hasn’t stopped doodling since. They’re all over my walls so expect some new artwork.”

Iwaizumi grins, “I’m excited to see the artist at work.”

Hamasaki laughs lightly, “They’re actually really good. Like, she draws all these details you wouldn’t expect. Like the pupils and eye color. And that weird little indent between your nose and upper li-“

“Iwa-chan! I messed up and my computer won’t connect to the wi-fi anymo--“

Oikawa blinks. He stands in the doorway, headphones slung loosely around his neck in his casual wear. He had been working on an assignment in Iwaizumi’s study and hadn’t heard the doorbell ring. He hadn’t realized they had company.

Hamasaki looks surprised, shocked even. Iwaizumi can’t help but flush a bit, as if he’s been caught doing something wrong, even though he hasn’t.

“Koto, this is Oikawa Tooru. Oikawa, this is Hamasaki Kotori, my ex-wife.” Iwaizumi hurriedly introduces and he wonders if the tension in the air is just his imagination. He hopes it is.

“Oikawa?” Hamasaki repeats, nodding her head toward him politely, “ _The_ Oikawa?”

Oikawa can’t help how his heart squeezes knowing that Iwaizumi’s talked about him before, “I am quite famous.” He teases a bit, trying to lighten the tense air. He flips his hair back for added effect.

Hamasaki squints, “He is just as you described.” She states after a moment.

“Dashing?” Oikawa prompts.

“Obnoxious.”

Iwaizumi lets out a bark of a laugh. Oikawa _wilts_. But he isn’t really able to say much before a tiny child barrels into his leg, “Kawa-san!”

“Kae-chan!” Oikawa greets easily, lifting her up, “How are you?”

“Kawa-san! Look! I did my hair _myself_ today!” She says, showing off her collection of hair pins she’s stuck into her hair. It’s a bit much, Oikawa thinks, but is smart enough not to mention it. Though, he soon realizes a few are the sparkly blue pins he’d given her a week before. He feels his heart swell at the sight. 

“You look so pretty!” He gushes, and she giggles at him.

“So _you’re_ Kawa-san.” Hamasaki thinks aloud, slowly piecing the world together again.

Iwaizumi squeezes his hand at his side. Because this is all a bit too much for him. It’s not like the interaction is going poorly or anything, but it weirds him out to see Oikawa and Hamasaki in the same room, in the same time, in the same space. He looks for a distraction, settling on his daughter, “Kaede, why don’t we get your stuff to your room?” Oikawa obediently places the girl back down on the floor. Kaede pouts as her father takes her hand and leads her up the stairs alongside her luggage.

Hamasaki moves over to Oikawa, her eyes critical. Oikawa forces a smile. She’s pretty, he thinks. Very pretty. He supposes Iwaizumi has always had good taste. With her staring at him so intently, however, he wishes Iwaizumi had explained to him exactly _what_ he had told his ex-wife about him.

“Be good to him.” Hamasaki says suddenly, and Oikawa doesn’t expect it. “Or you’ll have to answer to a lot of people.” He doesn’t respond at first, his normalgift of gab lost to him. Hamasaki keeps going, “You broke his heart.”

“I know.” Oikawa says immediately, as he finds his footing, “But I’m here now.” He says firmly, staring her down, “And I’m going to do my best.”

Hamasaki squints at him but her lips quirk up into a smile, “I can see why he likes you.”

Oikawa blinks, suddenly disarmed. He was expecting more of a fight. He’s used to being petty, but the woman before him sheds off a commanding aura. As if she doesn’t have the _time_ to be petty.

“Also, I should commend you on your tastes. Kaede won’t stop talking about her new hairpins or _you_ for that matter.”

Oikawa feels a grin blossom on his face and decides maybe the petty route is unnecessary, “Well, I know that Iwa-chan isn’t the one putting her in those cute outfits. Thank god she has you, or she’d be a walking fashion disaster.”

Hamasaki laughs into her hand, “Did you know,” She begins, looking at him slyly, “He once tried to leave the house in socks and sandals.”

Oikawa’s eyes widen in horror, “ _No_.”

Iwaizumi returns, then, oblivious to the gossip, but keenly aware of the bright smiles on both his exes faces. It’s a weird thing to see. Iwaizumi isn’t sure how he feels about it yet, “Sorry, for leaving you both here.” He quickly murmurs.

“You worry too much,” Hamasaki and Oikawa brush off, almost identically, if not for the _iwa-chan_ Oikawa tags to the end of his remark. They look at each other in surprise. Iwaizumi fidgets, feeling heat creep up his neck towards his face.

“It’s time I head out.” Hamasaki continues with a look at the clock, “It was nice meeting you, Oikawa-san.” Oikawa sends her a wave. Iwaizumi walks her to the door as Oikawa quickly retreats back to the study. When he’s out of earshot Hamasaki begins again, “You could have told me that your boyfriend resurfaced from the abyss.”

Iwaizumi grimaces, “We’re...not dating. And I wanted to. I just, didn’t know how to phrase it right.” He responds, “It’s all still so surreal.”

She doesn’t look convinced and reminds, “You’re allowed to date people, Hajime.”

Iwaizumi reddens further, “I know.”

“I’ll see you in a week.” She waves.

Iwaizumi lets out a breath as he watches her go, _I know._

* * *

“One more!” Kaede begs, clutching at the couch cushion she has in her lap, “One more movie!”

“It’s time for bed, Kaede.” Iwaizumi says sternly, as he tries to pick up his daughter. She shoves the cushion at him and dives sideways on the couch for freedom--landing right onto Oikawa’s lap.

Oikawa lets out a grunt, not expecting the sudden attack. Kaede wastes no time scrambling for purchase, trying to climb over the arm rest, but Oikawa grabs her around the waist, pulling her back down, “Where are you going, Kae-chan?”

Kaede looks like she’s about to cry, and sniffles at him, “Please Kawa-san! Don’t you want to watch another movie? Don’t you want to play with me?” She pleads, her eyes big and watery. It’s enough to make Iwaizumi wilt and consider pushing her bed time a whole hour. He can’t stand that look. He can’t stand her tears.

Oikawa pouts at her, “Sorry, Kae-chan. But Iwa-chan’s words are Law in this Kingdom.” He smiles at her and she stares at him, utterly betrayed. He hands her over to Iwaizumi, limp and defeated. Iwaizumi blinks at Oikawa before disappearing to put his daughter to bed. He doesn’t want her to start again.

Iwaizumi comes out twenty minutes later, finding Oikawa lounging on the couch, glancing through his phone. He’s got his glasses on, Iwaizumi notices. He wears them more often then he did back in high school. Sometimes he forgets that they’re old now, adults, aging.

“How do you do that?” Iwaizumi asks, coming over. Oikawa draws his legs back to make room for him on the couch. Iwaizumi pats his lap after sitting down. It takes a moment, because Oikawa is hesitant, but then he unfurls his legs back over Iwaizumi’s thighs.

“Do what?” Oikawa asks, sitting up, so his back rests against the arm rest rather than his neck. He puts his phone down beside him.

“Resist her ‘I’m-about-to-cry-because-of-you’ face.” Iwaizumi clarifies, looking over at him critically.

Oikawa grins, “Oh Iwa-chan, those faces can never work on me.” He explains easily, “I invented them.” Iwaizumi scowls at him and Oikawa chuckles, “You’ve always been weak to them. Don’t feel bad.”

Iwaizumi slaps the calf on his leg and Oikawa lets out a squawk, pouting at him, suddenly teary eyed. Iwaizumi feels himself soften--but then he realizes whats happening and glares at him. Oikawa laughs.

“I hate you.” Iwaizumi snaps, and Oikawa hums, but his eyes seem a little duller, as if he half believes it. Iwaizumi licks his dry lips and looks down at his lap. He runs an idle hand along Oikawa’s smooth bare calves--Oikawa’s wearing shorts today--up to the fabric at his knees. He pushes it back, ignoring the tremble he feels beneath his touch. He’d always been a fan of Oikawa’s legs, he remembers, but then pushes the thought away.

He pushes the fabric back to reveal the white brace covering his knee. He pulls it down carefully, and Oikawa still hasn’t said anything, but Iwaizumi can feel his eyes boring into him. He looks at the reddened skin, but the swelling has gone down considerably since his check up a few months ago. Iwaizumi swallows.

“How is it?”

“It only hurts when something pushes against it.” Oikawa answers, in a whisper. As if he’s hyper aware any sharp movements could upset the moment.

Iwaizumi finds himself touching it lightly, tracing the tendons with his index finger. He feels Oikawa shudder underneath him.

He shouldn’t be doing this.

“And you’re doing the exercises?”

“Of course.” Oikawa breathes out shakily.

Iwaizumi nods, and that should have been the end of it. But his hand lingers, fingers ghosting along the skin, entranced.

He shouldn’t be doing this.

Oikawa takes his hand and stops him. Iwaizumi looks up.

Oikawa has his eyebrows furrowed deeply, and there are tears gathering at the corners of his big brown eyes. He’s biting his lip tightly, “Iwa-chan...” He chokes. And it takes everything inside Iwaizumi not to react. Not to hold him. To just wait and hold still. Oikawa takes in a shaky breath, “I want to kiss you so _badly_ , Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi inhales sharply. He can feel Oikawa’s fingers digging into his hand. He leans a bit closer, close enough for Oikawa to feel his breath on the skin of his neck, “You can kiss me.”

Oikawa stares at him, and it feels like a lifetime before he makes his move.

To let go and get off the couch. Iwaizumi watches him, disbelief trapping him onto the couch, “Why?”

“Because we _can’t_.” Oikawa insists, keeping his back turned, “It’s not right. It’s not...It’s no good for you.” _I’m no good for you._

Iwaizumi gets up, “It’s ok, Oikawa--“

“It’s _not_ ok!” Oikawa whirls around, hot faced, “What I did to you will _never_ be ok.”

“I want to start over.” Iwaizumi tries to reason.

“How can we start over when that hovers over us? I can never take back what I did. It’ll always be there, festering. I’m not dragging you down with me anymore. I won’t make the same mistakes again. I _won’t_.” Oikawa continues insistently, the words bubbling out of him in a sudden fit.

“Oikawa--“

“I want you to be _happy_.” Oikawa pleads, and his voice is cracking. Because it’s what he wants more than anything.

 _Then let me kiss you again_ , Iwaizumi thinks. And he struggles to find the words to assure Oikawa that it’s _ok_. That he’s been thinking this through for months now, ever since he reappeared in that cafe almost a year ago.

But Iwaizumi is terrible with words, always has been. So when he tries to say _I forgive you_ all that comes to him are the college nights staring at his phone, the miserable mornings with no news, the aching of loss and the whole in his heart. And the words just don’t seem true on his tongur, because the resentment continues to cling to him.

Oikawa sees it, in his eyes. And Iwaizumi knows this because Oikawa soon takes a deep breath, “I should go home.” He murmurs, making his way out quickly, quietly. 

Iwaizumi doesn’t say anything. Simply watches as Oikawa heads for the door and closes it behind him. The click of it closing echoes in the silent home and Iwaizumi groans into his hands and wipes at his eyes. He realizes in that moment that he needs to find a way to forgive Oikawa, and a way for Oikawa to forgive himself.

Because Oikawa was the best he ever had.

And he wanted him back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woooo
> 
> so i move back into my dorm tomorrow! So updates will probs be a little slower. NEVERTHELESS, this story is almost finished :0
> 
> thanks for sticking with me!  
> see you next time


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The closer we get, the harder it is to say goodbye.

Iwaizumi stands back by the bin of volleyballs and watches as Oikawa speaks to his coach. He can see Oikawa using his forced, polite smile. See how he grits his teeth by the clench of his jaw. Can see he’s trying to argue and the coach is having none of it. He can’t hear the news but it can’t be good.

The coach points at the bench and Oikawa stomps over to sit down. Iwaizumi comes over to him. Oikawa’s rubbing his knee through the brace, the stomping must have hurt. 

“Hey.” Iwaizumi greets, gruffly. 

Oikawa doesn’t look up. He’s got his face in his hands, hunched over. Iwaizumi frowns and sits down beside him. He twirls a volleyball in his hand idly and waits. 

“I’m not allowed to play.” Oikawa murmurs into his hands after a long minute. 

“For how long?” Iwaizumi probes, because he’d already figured that part out. 

Oikawa lifts his head and leans it against Iwaizumi’s shoulder. It’s a nice weight, and Iwaizumi bears it without comment. 

“At least until fall.”

Iwaizumi’s eyes widen and he looks down at his best friend, “That long?” 

Oikawa buries his face into Iwaizumi’s shirt and nods his head. Iwaizumi frowns. 

He accidentally drops the ball he was spinning but he doesn’t bother to pick it up as it rolls out of reach. 

* * *

“Get up.” Iwaizumi demands, placing his bag down on Oikawa’s bedroom floor. 

Oikawa peaks over the book he’s reading in bed. He doesn’t respond, instead he turns to his side, his back facing the intruder. Iwaizumi grits his teeth, “Oikawa.”

“I’m supposed to be  _resting_.” Oikawa glowers, curling up a bit tighter. 

“Bullshit.” Iwaizumi snaps, walking around the bed to face Oikawa. The brunet grips his book tighter, as if it were a shield, “You’re supposed to be doing physical therapy.”

Oikawa turns around again so he faces the opposite direction, “I don’t care.” 

Iwaizumi grabs his arm, pulling him over. Oikawa doesn’t resist as he’s hauled out of the bed, book forgotten.

“How can you  _not_  care?!” Iwaizumi growls, “Don’t you want to play volleyball?” Oikawa glares at the floor. Iwaizumi continues, “Don’t you want to defeat Ushijima at Inter High?”

“Of course I want to beat him.” Oikawa hisses, “But how can I ever beat him  _now_.”

Iwaizumi lets go of him, “If you do the exercises you’ll have a full recovery.”

“How do you know that?” Oikawa huffs, unconvinced. 

Iwaizumi ignores the question, unzipping his bag. He takes out a stretchy band. Oikawa recognizes it from the gym. “Here.” Iwaizumi says, “Start.”

“I don’t even know what I’m doing.” Oikawa whines.

“It’s your own fault for not taking care of yourself.” Iwaizumi reminds harshly, but then he seems to soften. He crawls onto the bed, “Come on, I’ll help you.”

Oikawa swallows but finally nods. He obeys as Iwaizumi motions for him to lie down. He looks up at him nervously. Iwaizumi takes his right leg carefully, “Tell me if I hurt you at all ok.” 

“Ok.” 

“I  _mean_  it. Even a little sting. You tell me immediately.” Iwaizumi clarifies with a pointed look.

Oikawa smiles a bit, “You’re giving me permission to whine?”

Iwaizumi cracks a smile and his hands are too occupied to hide it, so he ducks his head down, “Just this once.”

Oikawa bites his lip and looks up at the ceiling, trying to hold in his snicker. Iwaizumi bends his leg so his thigh and calf make a right angle, foot up in the air. “Hold it there.” He orders quietly, taking the rubber band. He has the middle of it lie across the bridge of Oikawa’s foot, “Grab the ends and hold them tight.”

Oikawa does as he’s told.

“Ok, now just, push your foot against the band to straighten your leg.” Oikawa obeys, slowly at first, testing the waters. His knee tingles but it doesn’t  _hurt. “_ Good, now do twenty of those. I’ll keep count.”

Oikawa follows suit, but by the time he gets to fifteen he starts to feel a burn. Iwaizumi sees it in his eyes before he can speak and takes his leg in his hands again, “Thats fine. Fifteens fine.” He assures, quickly.

Oikawa takes in a shaky breath, letting go of the bands. Iwaizumi lets his foot down carefully and runs his fingers along his leg, “You ok?”

“Yeah.” Oikawa breathes, staring up at the ceiling. He blinks some of the little tears that had pricked the edges of his eyes away. He takes a deep breath, “How do you know all this?”

Iwaizumi snorts, “Didn’t they tell you at the hospital?”

Oikawa keeps staring at the ceiling. Iwaizumi keeps tracing Oikawa’s knee. “They did but I wasn’t listening. I was too upset.”

“Figures.” Iwaizumi sighs, running his fingers higher and higher, until they dance along Oikawa’s thighs. He can feel the brunet shudder beneath him but he doesn’t say anything. “I’ve been reading a bunch about it online.”

Oikawa smiles at the ceiling, draping an arm over his eyes, “Are you my nurse, Iwa-chan?” He giggles. 

Iwaizumi swats his hip, “Shut up, Trashykawa.”

Oikawa laughs, and then he keeps laughing and laughing. Until his laughs choke at his throat and his sleeve can’t soak up his tears anymore. And he starts sucking in a couple of noisy breaths and curling up reflexively and he feels so god damn  _pathetic_.

Iwaizumi doesn’t say anything. He crawls up, higher, lying beside Oikawa. He carefully takes Oikawa’s arm away from his puffy, red, wet face. Iwaizumi smiles at him, wiping some of the tears away with his thumb, “You’re such an ugly crier.” He sighs.

Oikawa buries his face in his chest, “I love you, Hajime.” He whispers. Iwaizumi blinks, wrapping his arms tighter around the teen. Pulling him closer. 

“You’re going to get better.” Iwaizumi states, “Trust me.”

“How can you be so sure?” Oikawa whimpers. 

“Because I’m not done playing volleyball with you, dumbass.”

Oikawa smiles into his chest, his fingers digging into his back for purchase. He nuzzles a bit deeper, breathing him in, “Iwa-chan...”

“Hmm?” Iwaizumi hums. 

“You’re so good to me.” Oikawa sighs.

Iwaizumi sometimes worries that Oikawa doesn’t realize how good Oikawa is to Iwaizumi, too. How Oikawa inspires him to do better, how Oikawa has pushed him into every field he’s ever loved. But he’s terrible with words so he hopes his tightened grip communicates it all. 

Because when Oikawa fell during that practice match, when Oikawa went to that hospital, when Oikawa wouldn’t answer his texts, it felt as though his whole world had crashed down around him. 

And he was going to do everything in his power to pick the pieces back together despite his shaky hands.

* * *

 

Oikawa does get better. Because despite what Oikawa says he’s incredibly determined and works incredibly hard. Sometimes he simply needs a push when he is in a particularly nasty slump. Iwaizumi takes over the captain duties in the weeks Oikawa is out of commission. Or at least it seems as though, but really, he consults Oikawa with everything. Things run smoothly. 

During practices, Iwaizumi helps guide the drills. Oikawa lies in the corner, flexing his leg back and forth carefully. Iwaizumi can’t help but watch him at times, until Matsukawa or Hanamakki nudge his shoulder with a shit eating grin. He usually scowls at them and focuses back on practice. 

Sometimes the new first years distract him. Kindaichi is constantly looking for guidance, and Kunimi needs to be coerced occasionally into giving it his all. Other times, it’s the second years hoping for pointers, whether Watari wants to practice his block follow or Yahaba needs help with the reserves. Still, there are times he hands Matsukawa the ball and heads over to Oikawa to help him. 

Oikawa’s eyes shine in those moments. Because Oikawa has never liked being excluded. And watching his team practice and bond together while he lies in the corner of the gym is a lot for him to take. 

“How is it?” Iwaizumi asks, kneeling down. 

“I can do fifty stretches with the band.” Oikawa grins, proudly. 

Iwaizumi smiles, “Get it to one hundred.”

Oikawa wilts, “Iwa-chan.” He whines, “That’s not fair! You can’t keep adding to my tally.”

Iwaizumi wants to kiss him, but they’re in the middle of practice, so he flicks his nose instead, earning himself another petulant whine, “I want you better.”

Oikawa lets out a dramatic sigh, “How sweet of you, Iwa-chan.”

“Don’t make me hit you.” Iwaizumi warns.

Oikawa’s eyes widen, teary eyed, “You would hit me now? In this state? How cruel!”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, “I’m leaving.” Oikawa’s bottom lip trembles in an exaggerated fashion, and despite how obviously fake it is, Iwaizumi can’t help the way it tugs at his heart slightly. “Can I come over tonight?” He asks, in a low voice.

“Of course.” Oikawa answers, with a smile.

Iwaizumi nods and trots back to the team. 

* * *

Oikawa kisses him into the mattress, hands climbing up his cheeks until they tangle in his hair. Iwaizumi groans, running his hands along Oikawa’s bare sides, feeling the dips and bumps of his warm skin. Oikawa kisses deeper, leaning further. And Iwaizumi feels the sudden grip in his hair, the sudden sharp intake of breath, and he pulls away. 

“Oikawa.”

“I’m  _fine_.” Oikawa huffs, “I just moved wrong for a second.” He insists. 

Iwaizumi frowns, “You shouldn’t be on all fours like this. It puts too much pressure on your knee. Let’s switch.”

Oikawa glares at him, “I’m not made of glass!”

Iwaizumi glares right back at him, “You need to be careful.”

Oikawa gets off him with a frustrated growl, “Stop worrying so much.” 

“I have to worry. Because you  _refuse_  to.”

“Well, how the hell am I supposed to worry about myself if you don’t even let me?” Oikawa snaps back. 

Iwaizumi looks away. 

They don’t say anything for a bit. Oikawa fiddles with his knee brace because he can’t stay still. Iwaizumi stares at the wrinkled sheets beneath him.

“I just don’t want you to get hurt again.” Iwaizumi finally breathes into the pillow his head rests on.

“I know.” Oikawa sighs, pulling at a strand of his hair, “But you should trust me to know my limits.”

“If you knew your limits this wouldn’t have happened.” Iwaizumi can’t help murmuring, fingers digging into the sheets. 

“That was  _months_  ago!” Oikawa growls, “People change, Iwa-chan. I’ve done all my exercises! I haven’t played volleyball at  _all_. I wear my brace every day! I’ve done everything right, can’t you see that?”

Iwaizumi won’t look at him. 

“I made a mistake. I know I did. But please, trust me now.” Oikawa pleads.

Iwaizumi sits up slowly, “I hate when you’re right.” He sighs. 

Oikawa smiles at him.

“Sorry.”

“For babying me?” Oikawa teases.

Iwaizumi flicks his forehead, “For caring so much.”

Oikawa smiles again at him, as he rubs at his forehead, “For  _worrying_  too much.” He corrects, but he has no interest in keeping the fight going, so he quickly deflects, “Iwa-chan, have you ever thought about being a doctor?”

“Huh?” Iwaizumi blinks, squinting his eyes. 

Oikawa reddens a bit, “I don’t know. You’re really good at taking care of me these past few weeks. And like, we’re third years now...and I don’t know. Give it a thought?”

Iwaizumi licks his lips, “I guess I  _should_  start thinking about that stuff.” He agrees, a loud. A  _doctor_. Huh. 

Oikawa takes his hand, “Although, if Iwa-chan becomes a doctor, I might have to get sick more often.” He jokes. 

“You’re a moron.” Iwaizumi sighs, pecking his lips. Oikawa giggles. “And you, have you been thinking about what you want to do?” Iwaizumi asks with a raised brow.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Oikawa counters, “I want to play volleyball.”

* * *

“Iwaizumi.”

Iwaizumi looks over at their coach, passing the ball in his hands to Matsukawa before trotting over. 

“Yes, sir?” He asks, standing before him.

“Where’s Oikawa?” The man asks.

Iwaizumi’s used to this. He’s been the keeper of Oikawa News ever since he met the boy. And Oikawa has always been the same for him, “He’s at the doctor’s for a check-up.”

Their coach gives a nod, “He should have told me.” He sighs, and Iwaizumi wonders if he’s allowed to go back to practice. The coach has more to say, however, “How is he doing?”

“Much better.” Iwaizumi grins, “He’s actually doing physical therapy and it’s paying off.”

“You think I can put him in games again?” The coach adds. 

Iwaizumi thinks a moment, “Well, as long as the check up goes well I think so.”  _And he would love it_.

The coach looks at his clipboard, “That’s good to hear.” Iwaizumi nods his head in agreement, “That boy has so much talent it’d be a waste if it ended here.”

Iwaizumi’s grin widens with pride, “I know, sir.”

The coach cracks a smile, “Alright, remind me to speak with him at tomorrow’s practice.”

Iwaizumi nods again before racing back over to his post on the court. Hanamaki looks over at him with a sly brow, “Someone’s happy.”

Iwaizumi blinks at him, “Hmm?”

“You’re practically jumping in place.” Matsukawa adds, thoughtfully. 

“What did coach say? Did he complement your spike?” Hanamaki probes, poking Iwaizumi’s shoulder.

Iwaizumi shakes his head, “Oikawa’s going to be allowed to play again soon.”

“ _Finally_.” Hanamaki breathes, but there’s no denying the grin on his face. Practice isn’t the same without Oikawa setting them tosses, pushing them to their limits, pointing out where they need to work and congratulating them on their successes. 

Iwaizumi grins at them.

That night, Iwaizumi visits Oikawa’s room. Oikawa looks over at him as he enters, putting down his phone and sitting up. 

“What did the doctor say?” Iwaizumi asks, immediately.

Oikawa pouts at him, “What? No hello kiss?”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes but acquiesces, stepping over and pressing a chaste kiss on Oikawa’s lips. He can feel the other teen smile beneath him. 

“Well?”

Oikawa hums, “The doctor said I’m recovering faster than expected!”

“Really?”

Oikawa nods, “I told him I’m in the care of an excellent nurse-in-training.” He teases.

Iwaizumi feels his face flare up and so he smacks Oikawa’s arm, “Shut up, idiot.”

Oikawa laughs, “I love you too, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi huffs, “Well, I have good news for you.”

Oikawa blinks, “You do?”

“Yeah. Let’s just say, Coach is going to talk to you tomorrow about something important.” Iwaizumi states, vaguely, with a smirk.

“About what?” Oikawa presses, intrigued.

“I’m not spoiling it.”

“Iwa-chan, you can’t just say that and  _not_ tell me.” Oikawa insists.

“Except that I can. Because I did.” Iwaizumi points out easily. 

“Iwa-chan!”

“Nope.”

“Dr. Iwa-chan, please.”

“Oh my god.”

“What did Coach say?” Oikawa pleads, shaking him. Iwaizumi grins at him. 

Oikawa pauses, bites his lip, “Am...Am I gonna play again? Is he going to let me play again?”

Iwaizumi’s grin widens.

Oikawa’s eyes are dazzling, lit up brighter than Tokyo Tower, “I’m back on the court?” He squeaks. 

Iwaizumi pecks his lips. 

Oikawa hugs him tight to his chest, “ _Iwa-chan!”_ He cries. 

“Get off me!” Iwaizumi laughs, pushing away half heartedly. But Oikawa’s nuzzling his face into his neck, and his breath tickles his neck and soon he finds himself hugging back. Holding him close. 

“ _Iwa-chan!”_

“What?” 

“Thanks.” Oikawa grins, kissing his neck. 

Iwaizumi huffs, “You don’t have to thank me. I’m your friend.”

“Best friend.” Oikawa corrects.

“Only friend.” Iwaizumi counters.

Oikawa pouts at him, but it’s short lived as he keeps peppering his neck with kisses. It tickles. Iwaizumi cranes his neck, shifting a bit until they’re face to face. 

Oikawa looks at him, “Boyfriend.” He corrects, again.

Iwaizumi kisses him. 

Oikawa laughs, “But really, I don’t know where I’d be without Dr. Iwaizumi.”

Iwaizumi looks at him, “It  _does_  have a nice ring to it.” He muses.

Oikawa looks at him, licks his lip, “Oh? Does Iwa-chan like that?  _Dr. Iwaizumi_ , I think I’m in need of a check up.”

“You’re disgusting.” Iwaizumi huffs.

“You love me.” Oikawa murmurs. 

Iwaizumi sighs heavily, but bumps their foreheads together lightly, conceding to the fact. 

* * *

“But Tokyo’s your top choice, right?” Oikawa sips at his drink across from Iwaizumi. The other nods. 

“If I can get in that, is.” Iwaizumi sighs, realistically. 

“Iwa-chan, all you have to worry about is your social science marks, and I can help you with those.” Oikawa waves off, “You’ll get in.”

Iwaizumi takes a bite of his rice dish, “Yeah, yeah.”

“And you’re going to be pre-med?” Oikawa continues, because it’s very important to him he knows Iwaizumi’s life plan by heart.

“Yeah...I mean, nothing else seems that interesting to me.” Iwaizumi shrugs, digging his chopsticks into his food.

Oikawa smiles, “It’ll be hard.”

“I love challenges.” Iwaizumi reminds, “I’ve been friends with you for what? Thirteen years? Forcing myself to stick around so long’s the greatest challenge I’ve ever faced.”

Oikawa sticks his tongue out, but grins, “You’ll make a great doctor one day, Iwa-chan. I’m sure of it.”

“Uh-huh.” Iwaizumi grunts, taking another bite of his meal.

“I take pride in being your first ever patient.” Oikawa continues.

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, “And you? Is Tokyo your first choice?”

Oikawa’s smile seems to falter. Iwaizumi notices it, finds himself hesitating and puts his chopsticks down. 

“Actually,” Oikawa begins, looking to the side, “I’ve been looking at these scholarships...”

“Yeah?” Iwaizumi probes, ignoring the way his heart starts to sink. 

“Volleyball scholarships.” Oikawa continues, concentrating on a point behind Iwaizumi, distant.

“Yeah?” Iwaizumi probes, ignoring how his heart sinks deep, deep into his stomach.

“In America.” 

Iwaizumi blinks, swallowing down, “Oh.”  _Oh._

Oh.

Iwaizumi tries to hide his disappointment. Tries to hold it in because it’s not fair to Oikawa. But they’d always been together since starting school and he never really considered that ending. He always assumed they’d just,  _keep being together_. 

“Yeah.” Oikawa fidgets, pulling at a strand of hair hanging in front of his face, “I mean, Tokyo  _is_  my top choice within Japan.” Oikawa defends, quickly, “And nothing’s final or anything. I mean, I’m just looking right now. But there are some really interesting scholarships out there and my dad wants me to apply and it would be cool, you know, to play volleyball outside Japan for a bit.”

“Yeah.” Iwaizumi agrees, despite everything. 

Oikawa’s shoulders wilt. Iwaizumi can tell. And he feels terrible because he needs to support his boyfriend in this moment, not discourage him. 

“I mean...” Oikawa repeats again, “I also have to  _get in_.”

Iwaizumi swallows down his apprehension and puts on a stern face, “Are you kidding? You’re top of the class and the best player on our team.”

Oikawa blinks at him.

“You’re a shoe in.”

And Iwaizumi knows what he’s saying is true, and it breaks his heart all the same. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on Spring Break! So bam! Another chapter!
> 
> There's only one chapter left !!!! 0o0!!!
> 
> It'll be posted before the end of the month. Get excited. 
> 
> Thanks for all your support!
> 
> love u


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let it all start anew

 

“Do you want to come over today?”

“Sorry, Iwa-chan, I can’t today!”

“What about tomorrow?”

“I’m swamped with work.”

“What about next week?”

“That’s when the deadline is!”

“The week after?”

“Maybe, I’ll let you know!”

* * *

“Dad, can I have your phone.” Kaede asks, looking up at her father as he pays the cashier.

“Just a second, Kaede.” He answers, collecting their groceries. He only needed to a grab few little things, luckily. He takes Kaede’s hand with his free one and they depart from the store.

“Can I have your phone now?” Kaede continues, and Iwaizumi can hear a whine building in her tone.

“Why do you want my phone?” He asks, looking at her with a raised brow.

“I wanna play one of my games.” Kaede answers easily, looking up at him earnestly.

“Not right now.” Iwaizumi says sternly, “You can play when we get home.”

She pouts, and Iwaizumi can feel resistance in her walk as they travel down the sidewalk. He had parked their car a block or so away, needing to do a number of little errands. Kaede had been good the whole time, but he can feel her patience wearing thin. He was getting tired himself, if he was being honest.

He spots a little coffee shop and pauses.

He looks down at his daughter, a smile curling on his lips, “Kaede, do you want a snack?”

She immediately drops her pouting and perks up, “Yes!” She agrees, hopping a bit in place at the mention of a treat.

Iwaizumi grins at her, “Alright, in we go.”

He gets himself a coffee. Kaede presses her face against the glass display, deep in thought as she selects her desert of choice. She picks out a chocolate pastry after careful deliberation, nodding her head with a determined finality. Iwaizumi smiles at her before turning to the cashier to pay. He hesitates a moment, something catching his eyes from the display and decides to add a milkbread to his list of purchases.

Oikawa hadn’t been over in a few days. Not since their little spat that one night. Not since Iwaizumi had asked him to kiss him.It wasn’t as if Iwaizumi wasn’t hearing from him anymore, Oikawa texted him constantly. He just kept coming up with excuses for not being able to come over.

Iwaizumi had gotten used to his presence, the newfound absence was wearing him down. Soon Kaede would go home with Koto and then he’d really be alone.

“Dad?”

Iwaizumi blinks. He’d led them out of the cafe, beginning to weave distractly through the patio of tables outside. He looks down at his daughter at her prompting. He squints when he sees she’s already making a mess of her face with her treat, chocolate splashed at the corners of her lips, and a cute little dot of it on her nose. But he doesn’t comment when he notices the worry in her eyes.

“Why’s that guy staring at you?” She continues in a hushed voice, pointing outward while at the same time pressing closer to him. Her grip on his hand tightens a fraction, blunt nails digging into his calloused palm.

Iwaizumi follows her gaze to find a tall man, with short black hair and a stern face. The man is indeed staring at them, eyebrows pointed harshly downward. It takes him a moment, to realize he _knows_ this man. More than knows him. It feels as though the winds been knocked out of him when he realizes, and he lets out a sudden gasp. 

“Ushijima?” He can’t help but call out, leaning a little forward in disbelief. Ushiima? _Here_?

The man stands up from his seat at one of the outdoor cafe tables, giving a nod. His gruff voice, deeper than in high school reach out to him, “So you are indeed Iwaizumi Hajime, correct?”

Iwaizumi swallows, and his grip on his daughter’s hand tightens instinctively, “Yes.” She seems to huddle closer to his leg, feeding off his energy of distrust.

“I am glad I have found you. Do you have time to talk a moment?” Ushijima asks, sitting back down and pointing at the seat across form him.

Iwaizumi is not sure what to think at this point, but he finds himself taking the offered seat. Kaede looks at him questioningly, uncharacteristically quiet. Iwaizumi smiles at her, helping her onto the seat beside him. She’s mostly limp in his grip but refuses to let go of his hand.

“We’ll go soon.” Iwaizumi promises, pulling his hand free with a careful smile, “Here, you can play your game.” He adds, offering her his phone. She takes it carefully, but doesn’t seem as keen on it as before. Her eyes keep darting between her father and the stranger.

“Well?” Iwaizumi prompts, turning his gaze to his former rival--current rival? He’s not sure where he stands with Ushijima. He’s not sure of much anymore.

Ushijima looks over, resting his hands on the table’s surface, laptop closed and set to the side, “Have you spoken to Oikawa?” He begins, slowly.

“Not recently.” Iwaizumi responds.

Ushijima frowns, “I feel as though I am partially responsible for this.”

“I know...about the stuff in America.” Iwaizumi states carefully, eyes looking down at the table top, gritting his teeth behind closed lips.

Ushijima nods, “You know we were intimate at times?” He clarifies.

Iwaizumi grimaces, fingers curling up into his palms from where they rest on the table, “I know.”

“We were never in a relationship.” Ushijima continues, “We simply had sex.”

“I _know_.” Iwaizumi huffs, “Let’s not talk about this in detail right now?” Iwaizumi demands, glancing over at his little girl. She is poking at his phone screen, shrinking down into her seat as if she doesn’t want to be seen, eyebrows upturned in worry.

There’s a lengthy pause as the man before him gathers his thoughts. “I am worried about Oikawa.” Ushijima begins again, picking his words carefully.

“What are you worried about?” Iwaizumi asks with a guarded tone, eyes squinting at him as they’re torn away from his daughter.

“He has not answered a text from me in months.” Ushijima explains, “And we left on bad terms.”

Iwaizumi frowns, because he knows better than anyone how awful it feels to be ignored. And the last person he wants to feel sympathy towards is Ushijima Wakatoshi. And yet there it is. He swallows, “He probably wants to distance himself from you.” He hesitates before adding, “We’ve been, uh, trying to reconnect.”

Ushijima tilts his head slightly, eyebrows furrowing, “I don’t see why we can not still be friends despite that.”

Iwaizumi can think of a few good reasons but he holds his tongue, mostly because his daughter is _right_ there. He begins again, rummaging for the best phrasing he can muster, “I think, he sees you as a reminder of his...weaknesses, as a person.” He tries. He’s not sure why he’s been placed in this position, to defend Oikawa’s shitty actions. But it’s a role he’s used to, like slipping on an old jacket.

“Because our initial intimate relation was a mistake?” Ushijima finishes, trying to follow the thought process. 

Iwaizumi nods, scratching at his arm awkwardly. This isn’t how he expected the conversation to go. He’s not sure what he _was_ expecting. Something more volatile?

“I see.” Ushijima thinks a moment, “Who is she, by the way?” He finally acknowledges the third member of the party, glancing at the little girl and lifting a hand to point for added clarity.

Iwaizumi blinks, looking over at Kaede who seems to retract from the pointed finger at her, “That’s my daughter, Kaede.” After a second he adds, “Say hi, Kaede.” But Kaede shakes her head and hides behind the cellphone, tapping away at it. Iwaizumi isn’t in the mood to press her and returns his gaze to his old rival, “She gets shy sometimes.”

Ushijima doesn’t seem very interested, and normally Iwaizumi would take offense to that, but Ushijima starts speaking again, “Oh yes, you’re married.”

“ _Were_ married.” Iwaizumi corrects.

“Ah. I apologize.” Ushijima replies, though his face shows no actual remorse.

Iwaizumi waves him off.

“Well this makes things easier.” Ushijima nods, and he seems to relax in his seat. As if a weight has been lifted from his shoulder. One could argue he seems content, despite the blank expression on his face. Iwaizumi doesn’t follow. He’s suddenly lost.

“How?” He questions. Demands. Because nothing about this has been easy.

Ushijima looks at him quizzically, ‘Well, there is no need to feel guilty about the situation any longer.”

“Why?” Iwaizumi continues, eyebrows furrowing.

“I assume you love your daughter.” Ushijima points out.

“More than anything.” Iwaizumi insists, feeling a burbling in his chest at the thought.

“Well, isn’t it safe to presume, if Oikawa and I hadn’t been intimate with each other while in America, she would never have existed?”

Iwaizumi opens his mouth. Nothing comes out. He closes it. He looks over at Kaede, with sudden wide eyes. She’s sitting with her knees up, cradling the phone in her eyes. She has her black hair up in two little pigtails, and her bangs are clipped to the side with a sparkly blue hairband. She glances up at her dad, eyes wide and worried.

She’s everything to him.

“I must catch a train to Miyagi.” Ushijima interrupts, “If you hear from Oikawa, would you ask him to respond to my messages?”

Iwaizumi nods numbly, tearing his eyes away from his daughter with difficulty.

“I wish you both the best.” Ushijima nods his head, putting his laptop away and slipping out of sight as easy as he came.

Iwaizumi sits there, lost in thought. Numb.

“Dad.” Kaede murmurs, tugging at his arm. He looks over at her, and she hands him his phone while looking away. It’s buzzing, but he’s not fast enough to catch the call. Everything seems to have slowed down. He has three missed calls, all from Oikawa. He blinks, sitting up, catching up to the pace of the world around him. He slides open his phone to find the texting app open.

_Please pick up!_

Iwaizumi furrows his brows and scrolls up to the start of the conversation. Apparently Kaede had decided to start texting him.

Me: _skary man_

Oikawa: _Iwa-chan?_

Me: _Kaede_

Oikawa: _Kaede? Why do you have Iwa-chan’s phone?_

Me: _theres skary man hre_

Oikawa: _Where? Is Dad with you? Where are you?_

Me: _dads her_

Oikawa: _Who’s the scary man? Can you give Dad the phone? Are you ok?_

Me: _dads talkng tu hm_

Oikawa: _Why is the man scary? Do you know where you are?_

Me: _his fase. dad is sad_

Oikawa: _Kaede, can you pick up the phone? I’m calling you._

Oikawa: _Kaede? Are you ok?_

Oikawa: _Please pick up!_

The phone starts buzzing in Iwaizumi’s trembling hand again and he immediately accepts the call, pressing it to his ear.

“Kaede! Where are you!? Are you ok? Where’s Dad?” Oikawa’s voice shouts into his ear.

“Oikawa, everything’s fine.” Iwaizumi quickly says. He can hear cars in the background of the call. Where _is_ Oikawa? He sounds winded.

There’s a pause on the other line, heavy breaths, “What’s going on?” Oikawa asks, and his voice seems to tremble. Iwaizumi bites his lip, “Where are you? Are you sure you’re ok?”

“I’m at a cafe. I...Where are you?”

“I’m outside my apartment building.” Oikawa responds, catching his strained breath, “...I’m...I’m sorry I’ve been ignoring you.”

“Oikawa.” Iwaizumi breathes.

“Can I come over? Right now? I’ll meet you at your house.”

“Oikawa.” He says again, softer.

“I...Let me meet you at your house.”

Iwaizumi licks his lips and lets out a sigh, “Ok.”

Iwaizumi hangs up after a goodbye, pockets his phone and looks over at his daughter, “Kaede.” She’s teary eyed and refusing to look at him so he repeats himself, “Kaede.”

“I’m sorry.” She whispers.

He picks her up, pulling her close, “ _I’m_ sorry. I didn’t know you were feeling so scared.”

“He looked mean.” Kaede murmurs, “And he was glaring at you and-and you looked _so_ sad.” She whimpers, wiping at her eyes.

“Don’t worry, I’m _fine_.” Iwaizumi hushes, kiss her cheek, “Ok?” She nods quietly. He smiles at her, “You know I love you?”

She nods again, biting her lip.

“More than anything?”

She smiles a little and nods.

He grins, “And you love me a little right?”

“A little.” She agrees, with a growing grin.

He laughs, kissing her cheek again for good measure, “That’s all I need.” He sets her down, taking her hand in his and grabbing their groceries with the other.

As they continue their walk to the car, Iwaizumi asks, “You texted Kawa-san because you were scared?”

Kaede nods.

“Why not Mom?”

Kaede purses her lips, “I was scared cause you were sad.” She explains looking up, “And Kawa-san always makes you happy.”

* * *

When Iwaizumi parks the car he doesn’t expect the sudden hug. Arms encircle him tightly, and Oikawa’s face buries into his neck. Iwaizumi can feel him trembling,  “Iwa-chan.” He hisses, “You had me so _worried_.”

Iwaizumi softens, wrapping his own arms around him to squeeze him back, “I’m sorry.” Oikawa releases him, taking a respectful step back. Iwaizumi misses the warmth, “She got scared while I was talking to someone and had my phone.”

He walks around the car to get Kaede out of her seat. Oikawa watches him, fingers pressed tightly into his palms. When Kaede is plucked out of her seat and placed onto the ground, Oikawa moves toward her. He crouches down, “Kae-chan, you had me terrified!” He whines, wrapping her in his own hug.

Kaede looks away, “Sorry...” She weakly hugs back

“But I’m glad you texted me.” Oikawa continues, pulling away and squeezing her arm reassuringly, “You can always text Kawa-san.”

Kaede reddens a little, staring at the floor, “Ok.”

Oikawa smiles at her.

Iwaizumi wants to kiss him.

He starts walking to his door.

When they enter into the home, Kaede scampers off to her room, claiming, “I need to tell Kiki what happened.”

“Kiki is her giraffe toy.” Iwaizumi explains, heading into his kitchen to put away his groceries. Oikawa follows him, leaning against one of the countertops. He watches Iwaizumi carefully, fingers twitching as he fidgets.

“Are you going to tell me what happened?” Oikawa asks after a silent pause.

“Oikawa.” Iwaizumi begins, but stops. Because he’s not sure where to start.

“I was _really_ worried.” Oikawa interjects, fidgeting with a strand ofhair. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, for ignoring you these past few weeks, I just--“

“I was talking to Ushijima.” Iwaizumi interrupts, with his back turned. Why not start where everything had ended.

Oikawa straightens up like a bolt, eyes wide, “He’s _here_?” His hands squeeze into fists, “Why the hell is he here?” He pauses a moment, eyes widening, quickly starting to defend, “I swear I haven’t texted him! At _all_!”

“You should.” Iwaizumi comments, closing his fridge, “You should text him.”

Oikawa stares at him, paling, “What? _Why?_ ”

“He’s worried about you.” Iwaizumi continues, turning around to face him. His expression grows serious, “Don’t do to him what you did to me.”

Oikawa bites his lips, looking down at the ground. His hands are still clenched tight and he’s trembling, “I hate him.”

“No, you don’t.” Iwaizumi sighs. Oikawa won’t look at him. Iwaizumi takes in another breath, “And that’s ok. You know? It’s ok. I’m friends with Koto still.”

“This is _different_.” Oikawa insists eyes trained to the floor.

Iwaizumi lets out another sigh, but he takes a step forward. He places a hand on Oikawa’s cheek guiding him so that’ll he’ll look him in the eye.

Oikawa looks strained, hesitant, unsure.

Iwaizumi hates it.

“Hey.” Iwaizumi says, “I love you.”

Oikawa bites his lip, “ _Don’t_ do this.” He pleads.

“It’s ok, Oikawa. It’s _ok_.”

“It’s _not_.”

Iwaizumi smiles at him, “I forgive you.”

Oikawa doesn’t believe him, “You don’t.”

Iwaizumi grins at him, growing a bit more confident, “I do.”

“How?” Oikawa insists, eyebrows upturned and tears collecting at the corners of his eyes.

“If you hadn’t broken my heart ten years ago I never would have found the love of my life.”

Oikawa is staring at him, “Hamasaki?”

“Kaede.”

“Kaede?”

Iwaizumi tugs him down and Oikawa falters. Their noses press together, “Do you get it yet?” Iwaizumi whispers against the brunet’s lips, “I’m _glad_ you were a self-centered ass back then. Thankful, even.”

“Iwa-chan...” Oikawa breathes, and even the ghost of air trembles against Iwaizumi’s face.

“Because if you hadn’t broken my heart, how else would I have had her?” Iwaizumi smiles softly, gaze lowering to stare at Oikawa’s surprised parted lips. He licks his own, “So, can I kiss you?”

“ _Iwa-chan_...” 

“Let me kiss you again, Tooru. ”

There’s a sharp intake of breath and suddenly Oikawa presses their lips together in a desperate motion. Iwaizumi isn’t one to back down, sliding his hands to cup the back of the taller man’s head. His fingers tangle in the soft brown hair, soft as ever, pushing him deeper, holding him closer.

Oikawa’s hand rises up to cling to the back of Iwaizumi’s shirt, fingers digging into his back and arms squeezing at his sides. Iwaizumi tilts his head to the side for a better angle, kissing him deeper. Oikawa practically whimpers into the kiss, the vibrations reverberating throughout Iwaizumi’s core, but it isn’t until Iwaizumi feels wet drops on his cheeks that he opens his eyes and pulls away.

Oikawa lets out a half sob, letting go of Iwaizumi to wipe at his spilling eyes.

“Hey.” Iwaizumi breathes, smoothing Oikawa’s hair out of his face.

“I’m so _sorry_.” Oikawa whispers, unable to stem the flow of tears.

“I forgive you.” Iwaizumi repeats, firmer than ever.

“I was such an _idiot_.” Oikawa insists, his voice crackling and raw.

“Kids are stupid.” Iwaizumi agrees with a half smile.

Oikawa chuckles, but he chokes on the noise, “I love you so much, Hajime. I never stopped. Never.”

Iwaizumi hums.

“And,” Oikawa begins, swallowing down, “I _love_ Kae-chan, too.”

Iwaizumi can’t help the wide grin, “I know you do.”

Oikawa laughs again, stronger this time, and wraps his arms around Iwaizumi once more. Iwaizumi holds him, and they stay like that a long while, maybe even for forever.

* * *

“NICE SERVE!” Oikawa screams, hands cupping around his mouth as cheers erupt around him.

“I can’t see! Dad! I can’t see!” Kaede whines beside him, and Iwaizumi is quick to pick her up. “What happens now?”

“He gets to serve again, because his last one hit the other side of the court.” Iwaizumi explains, eyes glued to the scene.

Oikawa’s fingers dig into the banister as Takeru spins the ball in his hand taking a deep breath. He closes his eyes, readies himself, and starts his jump serve. Oikawa’s heart swells at the sight, even if the other team is able to receive it.

“They hit it back, Dad!” Kaede points out, and Iwaizumi nods, ready for the next play to unveil itself.

Oikawa’s sister cheers louder than anyone else, as Takeru is able to slam down a powerful spike, winning the set for his team. It’s late in the evening, by then, and Iwaizumi excuses himself to put Kaede to bed, despite her insistence on staying.

Aoba Johsai goes on to win the entire match, qualifying them for prefectural finals the next day. The car ride back is filled with celebration and praising. Takeru is beat red, hands squeezing his knees as Oikawa ruffles his hair excitedly.

His sister drops him off at their parent’s home, where he is staying for the tournament weekend. Takeru pokes his head out the window then, shouting out a thank you. Oikawa laughs lightly, waving and calling back, “I’ll be thanking _you_ when you defeat Shiratorizawa tomorrow!”

After the car disappears around the bend he pulls his cell phone out, texting Iwaizumi to ask where he is.

_In my old backyard. Come over._

Oikawa jogs across the street, wandering around the familiar home and finding Iwaizumi seated by the creek, feet dangling over the side. He turns his head back at the sound of Oikawa’s approach, patting the seat beside him.

“Kaede asleep?” Oikawa asks first.

“That’s how I left her. How was the game?”

“He won!” Oikawa beams with pride.

“Next one’s Shittytorizawa?” Iwaizumi grins.

Oikawa laughs, wrapping an arm around his shoulder, and kissing his cheek, “He better win. Or I’ll disown him.”

Iwaizumi laughs next, “Should we invite Ushijima to watch that one?”

“He’ll be there.” Oikawa states firmly, “And we’ll make him cry.”

“Great.”

Oikawa hums, nuzzling his face into the crook of Iwaizumi’s neck. Iwaizumi lets him, gazing out at the creek before them. There’s no tree bridge to cross it anymore, but the gap is much smaller. He could easily make it now, “You know, I always thought it was bigger than this.”

“Hmm?”

“The creek. Maybe the tree bridge made it seem bigger than it was.”

“We were smaller then. Well, I was. You haven’t really grown much since.”

Iwaizumi punches his gut, hard, enough for Oikawa’s breath to leave him. He falls back, curling a bit to his side on the grass, “That _hurt_ , Iwa-chan.”

“Shut it.” Iwaizumi growls, but lies down beside him. Oikawa pouts at him, rolling over so he’s on his back and able to stare up at the night sky.

He smiles, softly, honestly, “The stars in Miyagi are the brightest, aren’t they?” He breathes out, eyes shining.

Iwaizumi keeps his gaze on Oikawa.

“Yeah, they are.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ITS OVER
> 
> this is actually the 1 year anniversary of when i posted the first chapter of this fic. Seemed appropriate for this kind of fic. The beginning is the end. 
> 
> Thank you all so so SO much for sticking with me for so long and supporting this fic! It's truly been a labor of love. 
> 
> I hope to see you all in my next iwaoi mutltific! Whatever that may be. 
> 
> until then you can pester me on my tumblr: findingschmomo


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